CHAPTER 21: CHAPTER 21: DESMOND FAIRCHILD AS A COMPANION HOST

Hiss...

A collective gasp spread throughout the room, and the atmosphere became tense.

Everyone in the booth was dumbfounded; this sudden turn of events caught them off guard.

Lucas Rhodes quickly moved closer to Quentin Jennings, his eyes full of gossip, "Master Jennings, what’s with this chick? Does she have a death wish, daring to make Master Fairchild drink with her?"

Another person chimed in, "Yeah, what a pity for such a beauty. If it were us, maybe we wouldn’t mind. But she just had to pick Master Fairchild, who’s got the worst temper and never shows interest in women. She’s done for."

After all, in their memory, Desmond Fairchild was never one to show tenderness to women.

Quentin Jennings wore a mournful face, not daring to look at Desmond Fairchild and even wanting to sneak away, "It’s really over. If I knew it would turn out like this, I would’ve never come to Witt’s."

Everyone knew Quentin Jennings had a fondness for beauties, assuming he was feeling regretful for Seraphina Sinclair’s sake.

Only he knew in his heart that it wasn’t Desmond Fairchild or Seraphina Sinclair who were doomed—it was him, Quentin Jennings!

He was the one who dragged Desmond Fairchild here and booked the ladies...

Bringing the eldest Fairchild heir to the bar for pleasure, and getting caught red-handed by the future Fairchild daughter-in-law—wasn’t he finished?

Both were Old Mrs. Fairchild’s beloved—her grandson and her new favorite granddaughter-in-law. He, as an outsider, couldn’t afford to offend either.

Lucas Rhodes, eager for drama, grabbed Quentin Jennings, saying excitedly, "How do you think this chick will die?"

"Let go of me!" Quentin Jennings clenched his fists. Seraphina Sinclair definitely wouldn’t die, but if he didn’t slip away soon, he really might.

Just as Quentin Jennings was feeling regretful, he heard Desmond Fairchild’s low, amused voice in his ear, "Okay."

Such a simple word, yet it struck them all like a bolt of lightning, leaving them stunned.

Did they hear wrong, or did Noel Fairchild speak incorrectly?

Not only did he not get angry, but he also agreed?

Not just them, even Quentin Jennings, who knew a bit of the inside story, looked as if he’d been struck by lightning.

He couldn’t recall a time when Desmond Fairchild was in such a good mood. Even though she was the mother of his child, treating him like an escort in public was a bit much, wasn’t it? And he wasn’t angry?

Seraphina Sinclair hadn’t expected him to agree so readily, and she was caught off guard.

Desmond Fairchild directly took out his phone, opened the payment code, and waved it at her, raising an eyebrow as his deep voice sounded, "Transfer the money."

"Transfer it is." Seraphina Sinclair wasn’t one to fuss. With a wave of her hand, she directly transferred a million.

Before Desmond Fairchild could disband the women around him, Seraphina Sinclair stepped forward, looking at the escort girls with a cold and noble air, "Get lost."

Quentin Jennings, in an attempt to salvage his reputation, immediately showed them out, "It’s all Lucas Rhodes’ fault. Who called you over? Didn’t you see the lady’s here? Quick, go! No awareness at all."

Lady?

The escort girls glanced at Seraphina Sinclair with anger and reluctance but got up and left. In fact, they didn’t dare get too close to Desmond Fairchild in the first place; his aura was too cold.

The people around him were incredibly respectful, indicating he was not someone to be messed with, which is why the foolish ones had dared approach him, yet just as they sat down, Seraphina Sinclair arrived.

They hadn’t even said a word!

Only Seraphina Sinclair would think he was surrounded by women.

The space around Desmond Fairchild was originally already empty, but now it felt even more spacious.

Seeing this, Seraphina Sinclair’s expression softened slightly, and she gracefully took a seat beside him.

The distance between them was less than five centimeters, giving an oddly intimate feel.

What surprised Lucas Rhodes and the others the most was that Desmond Fairchild’s expression showed no anger, and there wasn’t any bloodshed. This woman actually sat down so calmly?