Don't Mess with the Girl with Candy novel Chapter 137

“Deal,” Shanley said, his lips curling into a soft smile. “I’ll work hard to make sure you have more than enough to spend.”

Juniper blinked, momentarily stunned. She had just been teasing, trying to convey that she was high-maintenance and not easily won over. She hadn’t actually expected him to provide for her. It wasn’t like she was short on cash.

“You…” She started to explain, but when she looked up and met his deep, adoring gaze, her soul seemed to tremble, and the words caught in her throat.

“What is it?” he asked, amused by the way she was staring at him, the tips of her ears turning a cute shade of pink. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, a roguish smile on his face.

“Don’t you believe me?” He was, in fact, quite good at making money. She could spend as much as she wanted.

“No, it’s not that.” Juniper shifted back slightly, feigning composure. “I was just wondering… You say you’ll take care of me, but would my brother agree to that?”

Her tone was even, her eyes clear, filled with a hint of mischief.

Shanley’s smile froze on his face, and his expression darkened.

“Well, you get to work making all that money. I’m off to school.” Juniper fluttered her eyelashes, having landed her blow. She slung her backpack on, decisively opened the door, and cheerfully walked toward the school.

Shanley sat there, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

A few seconds later, a snort of laughter escaped from the front seat. Flint couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Felton, meanwhile, was digging his nails into his palm, desperately trying not to join in. Ms. Payne’s comeback was a finishing move. Their boss spent all his time plotting to lure the girl into his arms, but if Mr. Tate, who was notoriously protective of his sister, ever found out he’d willingly delivered her into the lion’s den…

The thought of that scene was too terrifying to even imagine.

“Flint.” Hearing the laughter, Shanley turned his head, his icy gaze landing on him. “You seem to be in a very good mood lately.”

“Not at all, boss,” Flint said, quickly lowering his head like a coward. “I’m just a naturally cheerful person.”

“Isn’t that my sister?” Yolanda asked Jerrold, her voice deliberately loud. “I remember that car isn’t cheap. Do you think the person inside is her… ?”

She left the rest unsaid, the implication clear.

“And…” Yolanda pursed her lips, feigning innocence. “I think the person in the driver’s seat has white hair. He must be pretty old.”

Flint, with his dyed-white hair, would have been very confused.

Jerrold followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing.

Not cheap? It was just an old model that cost several hundred thousand; it had depreciated significantly by now. How much money could the owner possibly have?

And indeed, the driver had a full head of white hair. He looked to be at least sixty.