Cecilia was about to stop him, but Miles Sinclair's hands were faster.
The moment he took the photos, Miles Sinclair's pupils contracted.
"You had me followed?"
Cecilia didn't speak, just looked at him coolly. "You just said you didn't have any female friends. So, who is she?"
Miles Sinclair's hand, holding the photos, trembled violently. He uncomfortably tossed them onto the table. "Cecilia, let me explain. She's not my friend. She's just chasing after me. Everyone says she's my groupie, but I don't like her at all."
'Groupie...'
'Doesn't like her...'
Such familiar words. They were like a boomerang, returning to strike Cecilia with unerring accuracy.
When she had pursued Damian Hawthorne, people had also called her a groupie. And Damian had told everyone he didn't like her, either.
