After reaching the 18th floor, Clara Grant stepped out of the elevator and walked to her right. She quickly found room 1818. Stopping at the door, she raised her hand and knocked gently, then waited for it to open.
After waiting for a while, there was still no sound. Clara Grant furrowed her brow slightly. The front desk had clearly said he was in, and the person who asked her to deliver the item had also said that Mr. Quinn would definitely be here at this time.
'Maybe my knock was too soft, and the person inside didn't hear?' Clara Grant thought. She raised her hand and knocked again, a couple more times, then pressed her ear to the door, trying to hear any stirring from within.
But before her ear could even touch the wood, the door was suddenly pulled open. Startled, Clara Grant quickly steadied herself.
Thankfully, her reflexes were quick, otherwise she would have made a fool of herself.
Clara Grant let out a quiet sigh of relief and looked at the person standing in the doorway.
He was very tall. When she looked straight ahead, her eyes were only level with his chest. Based on her own height of five-foot-six, he had to be around six-foot-three.
Her gaze traveled upward, finally landing on his face. She immediately broke into a proper, polite, and welcoming smile. "Hello, are you Mr. Quinn?"
He had expected a hotel employee to be delivering what he'd requested, so when he opened the door to a strange woman, Seth Quinn froze for a second. Then, his face unreadable, he looked her up and down.
This woman—no, with her looks, she could only be called a girl. Her hair was casually tied up in a bun, with a few stray strands framing her cheeks. She had a small, clean face, free of makeup, with large, dewy eyes, a delicate, high-bridged nose, and full lips that were a natural pink, looking soft and supple.
She was wearing a white t-shirt, light-blue cropped jeans, and a pair of white flats.
She looked for all the world like a student.
Undeniably, the girl looked simple, pure, natural, and fresh. And she was stunning.
'Then again, who could say? She might look pure on the outside, but on the inside...'
As he sized her up, Seth Quinn subconsciously leaned forward, getting closer to her, and took a sniff.
Ever since that incident a year ago, he seemed to have developed a habit. Whenever he met a woman he didn't know, he would instinctively lean in to catch her scent. But every time, he failed to find the one he remembered.
Clearly, this time was no exception. A flicker of disappointment crossed Seth Quinn's face.
Clara Grant was still smiling, but her expression had grown a little stiff. There's a saying about not hitting a smiling face, yet here she was, offering him a polite and warm smile, and not only did she fail to get the expected response, but the man's expression was growing colder by the second!
He leaned in slightly, and it even seemed like he sniffed the air, like a predator sizing up its prey. 'What... was that all about?'
Feeling a little nervous, Clara Grant couldn't help but take a step back. "Mr. Qu—"
The word had barely left her lips when he cut her off coldly. "What is that smell on you?"
His tone was dripping with disgust. "It's so foul!"
Clara Grant froze. She sniffed at herself and suddenly remembered—it was the perfume that Sarah Shelby had insisted on spraying on her before she left the house.
She didn't like wearing perfume and had never used it, but today, Sarah had caught her off guard, grabbed her, and given her a few spritzes.
And while she didn't like wearing perfume, she didn't think this scent was foul at all. It was genuine French perfume, and it smelled quite fresh to her.
Adhering to the principle that "the customer is always right," Clara Grant kept the smile on her face, but she also shuffled back another half-step to lessen the olfactory assault on her "god."
'She dresses so purely, but isn't she just like all the other women, dousing herself in tacky perfume?'
Seth Quinn's brow furrowed, then one of his eyebrows arched. His voice grew a few degrees colder. "What is it?"