"Huh... what?" Clara Grant didn't understand what he meant at first.
"What I mean is, my brother is handsome, chivalrous, and rich—the spitting image of a perfect, domineering CEO. A lot of women are into him."
Clara couldn't help but scoff internally. 'A lot of women like him? Hmph, he probably likes a lot of women, too. And he claims he's not a player?'
"Any woman would be really happy to be my brother's girlfriend or wife."
Clara's fork unconsciously poked at the food on her plate. She was a little speechless. This was the second time today she'd heard someone sing Seth Quinn's praises. 'Is he really that great?'
Something suddenly occurred to her. She turned to Miles Quinn and asked, "He... President Quinn looks to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, right? Has he really never had a girlfriend all these years?"
