After a brief pause, the man swung another punch at me.
At that critical moment, a sharp voice rang out from behind.
“Stop!”
A tall young woman strode toward us, surrounded by bodyguards.
“Jason Miller, you’re my personal assistant. How can you just start a fight in public like this?” she scolded.
“If fans saw this, the company would have to spend a fortune on damage control.”
I studied the woman carefully and had to admit—she was stunning.
At nearly five-foot-seven in height, wrapped in a red trench coat that perfectly outlined her figure.
The only flaw was the frosty look in her eyes as she stared at me.
“Miss Emily, it’s been a while,” I said.
But Emily instantly raised her hand to cut me off.
“Enough. Just tell me—what do you want?”
I froze, caught off guard.
Were Hollywood stars always this impatient?
I had only greeted her, and she couldn’t even bear that?
“Emily, though we haven’t met often, we are still engaged,” I said firmly.
“Don’t you think it’s going too far, not even letting me finish a sentence?”
Emily chuckled coldly.
“Too far?”
“What is there left to talk about between us?”
She cast me a scornful glance, full of disdain.