"Ugh—" Enna Clark retched violently, but apart from feeling nauseous, she couldn't actually vomit anything, just a stomach upset.
She was holding back so hard, tears welled up as she coughed, but she still didn't forget to retort to someone, "You call that not fast?"
"You can ask Scott Harris, I usually drive at 120 miles per hour."
Today he drove at 90 miles per hour, just to accommodate her.
Who knew she would still get car sick.
Enna Clark was at a loss for words, feeling too uncomfortable in her stomach to bother with him. She simply closed her eyes and tried to adjust herself.
Baron Lawrence glanced at her pale side face, already regretting. He pursed his thin lips and reached out with his hand, casually patting her back twice clumsily.
He wasn't good at taking care of people. He meant to help Enna Clark ease her discomfort, but his hand was too heavy, making Enna suspect he was taking the opportunity to torment her.
