She walked to the dining table, turned on the special water dispenser in his room, got a cup of water, then brought it over the sofa and placed it on the coffee table.
"It’s hot, so drink it later. Where's the apple? Didn't you have enough to eat tonight? And you want apples now?" She frowned with a look of displeasure.
"I only had a little champagne in the evening, and I didn't eat anything. The apples are in the fridge." He simply rested both his legs on the couch and reclined leisurely, his slender fingers pointing to the fridge.
Joyce walked to the refrigerator with slightly furrowed eyebrows.
When she opened the refrigerator, she found a lot of food and fruits inside.
This man, wherever he went, lived a life of luxury and pomp.
She took out an apple and grabbed a fruit knife from the European cooking table.
Walking back to the couch, she simply sat on the coffee table and began peeling apples.
The sharp tip of the knife slid through the skin of the apple to reveal the crystalline flesh inside.
"The man who attacked you tonight was supposedly sent by that Mr. Walsh." Luther said while watching her from the side.
"Hmm. Most likely. I saw Mr. Walsh walk around the corner to make a phone call, so I think it’s him." Joyce said back.
"Just some punks from the street. What a novice. Do you need me to take care of it for you." He asked.
Joyce happened to have peeled an apple and she sliced it into pieces, discarding the core.
Then, she stabbed the sharp tip of her knife into a piece of apple and reached out to hand it to him.
"I will take care of my own business."
Her tone was cold and sounded like she would like to keep a distance from him.
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