The domineering man scooped her straight into his arms, grabbed her hand and played with it. Lowering his eyes as if it were only natural, he said, "Enna Clark sounds the best!"
Enna Clark's temple throbbed hard twice. She shot him a glare, annoyed. "Please, I'm seriously asking you."
Baron Lawrence tugged her fingers, his index finger deliberately hooking her palm, domineering and childish. "I'm seriously answering you too. Enna Clark is the best-sounding!"
A tingling itch, like an electric shock, spread from Enna Clark's palm. She reflexively pulled her hand back and said gloomily, "There's no way our future little bun is going to be called Enna Clark, that's way too ridiculous."
She couldn't picture it at all—someone calling "Enna Clark," and the two of them at home doing a duet.
"Then Enna Lawrence!" Baron Lawrence blurted out without even thinking.
