The Unveiling of Secret Queen

Chapter 947: Nathalie: Do You Want to Be a Kept Man?

Amadeus Yancey saw the crumpled papers scattered all over the room and the clutter of items on her desk, which seemed to be all drawing tools, but he didn’t ask a single question, as if he hadn’t seen them, looked down, his gaze focused and brooking no interruption: "Room temperature."

"Ah." Nathalie Quinlan took the cup and already realized it wasn’t the iced drink she wanted, slightly disappointed.

However, Amadeus Yancey walked past her and said, "Did you forget the stomach pain you had last time you had your period? There’s one more week, and I asked the doctor; you can’t have anything cold this week, so I didn’t add ice."

He mentioned this very naturally, calm and composed, without any awkwardness.

Nathalie Quinlan’s beautiful black eyes looked at him for a long while, speechless, her shoulders slumped in surrender, holding the cup and following his steps back, saying, "Alright. Is this sweet?"

She didn’t like sweet drinks, a habit that even Alfred Garland was well aware of.

How could Amadeus Yancey not know about this quirk of hers, a person who didn’t even like milk tea, making her drink something sweet might as well ask for her life.

"Not really sweet."

It was the first time Amadeus Yancey described the taste of Sour Plum Juice to a girl, the first time, somewhat novel: "It’s sour, then sweet aftertaste. Try it, if you don’t like it, don’t drink, I’ll let Alfred Garland bring you a cup of lemon water..."

Nathalie Quinlan glanced at him, sat down on the chair, holding the mug in both hands, silent, and took a small sip.

Just like he said, it was tangy at first, followed by a sweet aftertaste, not bad.

"It’s okay." Her brows relaxed, her beautiful black eyes lifted, mood seemingly improved, her lips curled, with a touch of unwillingness, she said, "Some ice cubes might have made it taste better."

Amadeus Yancey automatically ignored her words, already noticing that the Laptop on her desk was running a drawing software.

However, it was different from the drawing software he was used to in his work; Nathalie Quinlan’s laptop seemed to have a more professional one.

He only glanced at it for a moment before shifting his gaze back to the girl leisurely sitting and drinking Sour Plum Juice, whispering, "Grandfather just sent me a message."

Nathalie Quinlan, holding the mug somewhat absentmindedly, relaxed entirely, and once relaxed, she started feeling sleepy.

Hearing his deep, enticing voice, she carelessly looked up, tilted her head, as if waiting for what was to come.

"He told me to work hard," Amadeus Yancey chuckled lightly, his charming face especially captivating, his deep eyes staring at the girl, with a certain intensity, "I think what he meant was that he’s afraid I’d... be a kept man."

"??"

Nathalie Quinlan finally summoned some energy amid her drowsiness, gave him a nonchalant look, and said directly, "Do you want to be a kept man?"

Amadeus Yancey: "..."

Nathalie Quinlan gave him another quick once-over, withdrew her gaze, returning to her mischievous, indolent demeanor, and said bluntly, "Better not think about it, I can’t afford to keep you."

The heir to the Yancey Family in Beijing and also the big guy at The Ninth Institute, she might have a little money, but to support Amadeus Yancey would be quite straining.

And just from the decoration of his apartment in Rhine, one could tell how much he liked to spend; the sofa downstairs alone cost seven figures.

The hairdryer in her room started at six figures.

It’s not that she was being modest; he was quite expensive to maintain, certainly not the type that could survive on coarse grains, very costly.