"Young Master?" Olly stopped in confusion, blinking.
Matthew Saxon's brows were slightly furrowed, his expression darker than the Alex outside the window, his eyes cold and soaked, as if they'd been steeped in ice water. The moment he looked over, it was like frost spilling out.
It was just a normal glance, but Olly still couldn't help shivering, reaching up to rub away the goosebumps on her arms.
He seemed to be hesitating about something. His brows drew together and then loosened, loosened and then tightened again, clearly troubled over something.
Olly watched him quietly, not daring to rush him at all.
At times like this, if she said even one wrong word, she could get cursed out so badly it'd be like a bloody downpour.
Once the Young Master lost his temper, the consequences were serious. Everyone up and down the Saxon Family would suffer with him, and it would take at least three or four days for his anger to slowly cool down.
