The search returned with tons of similar questions accompanied by replies.
“Has the original poster been castrated?”
“Impossible. Before you can castrate him, you’ll get castrated first.”
“Don’t be so naive.”
“Once there was a man who asked the same question, and he ended up dead.”
What kind of posts were these? Carl browsed through many more such threads and found that they were all the same, as nutty as a fruitcake. The original poster later posted an update, leaving only a crying-face emoticon.
Carl put away his mobile phone and started burying himself in his work and self-despair for not being able to castrate Leonardo.
…
Speeding brought Leonardo back in twenty minutes.
Summer wanted to send away the stylists, but they were not leaving. She had no choice but to occupy them with tea in the living room and herself cooking her dinner in the kitchen. When Leonardo arrived, those stylists who had stomachs full of tea saw Leonardo as their savior.
Leonardo looked around, then asked a bodyguard, “Where is Mrs. Emerson?”
“In the kitchen.” The bodyguard pointed in the kitchen’s direction.
Summer was studying a recipe. She had been thinking of a few new dishes, and tonight, she was going to make them. While she was browsing through the recipe book, steady footsteps approached from the outside. Miraculously, she recognized the owner of the strides; it was Leonardo. Pretending not to hear, she concentrated on the recipe book.
Leonardo walked up behind her. Seeing the recipe book in her hand and the name of the dish on the page, he cocked an eyebrow. “Bitter melon with mousse?”
“You’re home,” Summer said without looking back, her voice unexcited.
He snatched the recipe book from her, raising it in the air. She turned around, standing on her toes, trying to grab the book from him. But he was too tall for her, her hand not managing to reach it. She was even more pissed on top of what happened just now.
Discomfited, she raised her leg, giving Leonardo some “good news” in his leg.
“Give me back the recipe!”
“You’d rather look at the recipe, not me?” Leonardo cocked one of his brows. His voice was serious but his words were childish.
Summer glared at him with her chin skyward. “That’s right. You’re the last person I want to see.”
Unruffled, Leonardo put down the recipe book with a smile, smacking on her lips and drawing her into his arms before she could even react. Speaking with a low voice into her ear.
“Didn’t you say you were going to help me? For the party tonight, I’m counting on you, honey!”
The word ‘honey’ had a kick of sexiness in his charming low voice. Feeling an itch in her ear, Summer reached to scratch her ear. As if he had foreseen it, Leonardo grasped her hand, took her earlobe between his lips and sucked on it for a second before slowly releasing it.
“Are you going to the party?”
Her neck shrank back as an electric sensation ripped through her. She chirped, “Okay, okay, I’m going!”
“Thank you.” Leonardo let go of her. Seeing that Summer’s ear was as red as a monkey’s butt, he could not help reaching out to pinch it.
Feeling embarrassed and angry, she smacked his hand away. “Stop it. I’m going to try out the evening gowns right away.”
Leonardo looked at her and chuckled without saying a word. It seemed he had found yet another weakness of hers.
“What’s so funny? Stop laughing!” Summer shoved him away and walked out.
She tried five pieces of gowns and finally got the one that the stylist approved. The stylist said she looked good in every one of them, but there would be surely one standing out from the rest. Sitting in front of the mirror as they fiddled with her, Summer’s heart finally calmed down.
Had she just fallen into Leonardo’s honey trap or was he just being lovey-dovey with her? Considering how stony his face was on normal days, calling her “honey” with that sexy low voice was definitely a lovey-dovey thing. No women could resist it when Leonardo did that.
…
An hour later, the stylists were finally done with her, looking at her with admiration. “Mrs. Emerson, you are so beautiful. Quick, let Mr. Emerson have a look downstairs!”
Summer looked at herself in the mirror. Accentuated by the bright red gown, she was glowing in her dress. Her bangs were swept up with her snow-white forehead exposed as strings of curly hair cascaded down her cheeks, and tail of her hair at the back of her head permed into loose curls. With her bright-red gown complemented by the same color on her lips, she looked gorgeous.
Summer was stunned by herself at first glance. But after a while, she started to get used to it, seeing herself as nothing more than a little more mature and womanly. She rarely wore high heels, but it seemed it was obligatory to wear them to match the evening dress. Now, she needed to keep her hand on the handrail as she walked to avoid tumbling down the stairs.
Leonardo was sitting in the living room. Hearing the click and clack of the high heels behind him, he looked back. Summer looked at him in anticipation, waiting for his compliment. Those stylists told her she was gorgeous.
However, Leonardo just looked at her for a few seconds before looking away, coming forward to hold her. “You don’t look like you’re used to high heels.”
“Yeah, I rarely wear them.” Summer nodded.
The stylists had given her a pair of 8-cm high heels, prodding her up from 1. 67 to 1. 75 meters. Leonardo was 1. 88 meters tall, which was 20 centimeters more than Summer. Now with the high heels on, the height difference between them was not that apparent anymore. So she was a little excited with her newfound height as compared to Leonardo’s.
He had not noticed it. Turning to face the stylist behind him, he said, “Get her another pair of shoes. Not high heels.”
The stylist appeared reluctant. “None high heels don’t match the dress well…”
“Then we’re not going.” Leonardo said, face still lacking emotions.
“What?” Summer was puzzled. “Not going where?”
“Not going to the party. The stylist says you should wear high heels. But you’re not used to it.” Leonardo looked at her as if he meant it.
Was it even an excuse? The way he changed his mind was simply astounding.
“I think I can manage.” Summer walked around him on the high heels. It was not like she had never worn ones. She had worn high heels before when she was still working as an intern. She just needed to get used to it.
Leonardo hemmed, then said, “If you can’t, just change the gown and makeup.”
The stylists chuckled upon hearing that, and Summer felt something in her heart; it was his care for her.