Chapter 934

After saying that, he laughed. Heather, however, didn't laugh. She simply looked at him with narrowed eyes, puzzled. "I didn't go into the next room," she said. "There's a wall. I can't get past it."

Ralph fell silent, thinking, Which cave did she crawl out of? He'd heard the Riggs family lived on an isolated island, out of touch with society for years. Was that why she lacked a sense of humor? He silently cursed, but concealing his irritation, he replied, "Yes, you're right. There's no way you can get into the next room. I was being silly."

Looking at him, Heather whispered, "You're not stupid."

The quiet words reached Ralph, delighting him. "Heather," he began, "what impression do you have of me? What do you think of me?"

She pursed her lips, then lightly bit her lower lip, remaining silent. Ralph couldn't tell if she was pondering or simply unwilling to answer. Staring at her face, he felt a pang of something akin to infatuation.

Although Heather's personality was somewhat reserved, and her mind didn't seem particularly quick, she was undeniably beautiful. Her face was cherubic, lovely. Ralph decided her temperament mattered less; her beauty, wealth, and power more than compensated. The most pressing task was cultivating a relationship. He'd been pursuing her for a while, and she seemed neither enthusiastic nor apathetic. Was she waiting for him to make a move?

"Would you like a drink? You didn't object before. What would you prefer? I can order for you!" he said, raising his wine glass and gesturing towards the menu. "What would you like to order?"

Still biting her lip, she shook her head, looking slightly embarrassed.

"How about a dry martini?" he suggested.

Heather clutched her glass, her cheeks flushed, but she nodded demurely. Ralph felt a thrill. He swallowed, ordered the drinks as melodious music began, took her glass, and offered her a microphone, raising his wine glass in a toast. "Drink a little," he said, "moisten your throat, and enjoy the music."

He took a sip. Heather frowned, looking at the wine, her expression troubled. Ralph didn't know what she was struggling with, but as the music played, he sang, "Clearly understand my heart, long for a true feeling..."

He turned to face her as he sang, offering an affectionate gaze. Heather didn't drink or sing along; her hands remained clasped at her sides. As he sang to her, she stared, her gaze evasive, confused. He couldn't understand. Could she be deliberately concealing something?