"Living quite well? Where are you staying, the place Knox Simmons found for you?" The mention of Knox Simmons reignited Matthew Saxon's anger, "Scarlett, can't you see Knox Simmons has an agenda with you? Do you really think staying there is safe, reassuring?"
Scarlett Yates looked at him calmly, her tone indifferent, "Matthew Saxon, is this how you treat your friends, talking behind their backs? Do you think this is right? I'm quite confident in Knox Simmons' character. Don't project your own dirty thoughts onto everyone else."
Every word that Scarlett uttered was like a knife stabbing into him, and the phrase "he projects his own dirty thoughts onto others" was like pouring oil on the fire of his anger; he was almost unable to control his temper.
He pressed his lips tightly together, the anger rising to his throat, barely restrained. Under the table, his hand clenched into a fist, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged.
No, he couldn't lose his temper.
