7: Have You Ever Seen Little Red Riding Hood Bully the Big Bad Wolf?

Lorenzo’s large hand gently landed on Cassandra's pale cheek, his thumb softly moving as he wiped away the tears from the corner of her eye.

Cassandra shyly turned her face away, her gaze shifting to the car window, her ears flushing with an unnatural redness...

Lorenzo roughly guessed what had happened. Charles had attended the banquet with his secretary yesterday, and the little girl had cried and left early, so today she was probably being punished.

“I’ll take you out to have some fun, are you coming?” Lorenzo said, placing his hand on Cassandra’s slender shoulder.

At that moment, Cassandra looked like a little rabbit in a cage, her eyes red and shrinking into a corner, looking pitiful and helpless. If she said no, would he listen?

Seeing Cassandra silent and looking so helpless, Lorenzo lightly scratched her cheek with his finger twice. “Don’t worry, you’re still young, I won’t do anything more to you,” he said, trying to reassure her.

For now, he would take it slow; otherwise, it would be too cruel.

Aside from Grace, Cassandra had never been this physically close to anyone, especially not a man. Mr. White was probably the first.

Cassandra felt nervous, especially when she heard Lorenzo’s voice. It was deep and mature, with an almost hypnotic charm that could easily captivate anyone who was sensitive to voices.

For someone like her, who often listened to “radio dramas,” Lorenzo’s voice was a dream come true.

“What are you thinking? Your face is getting redder,” Lorenzo’s voice suddenly sounded by her ear. Cassandra was startled and snapped back to reality, turning to meet Lorenzo’s deep gaze. “Didn’t you say you’re going to take me out? Of course, I was wondering where we’re going,” she said, feeling a little guilty.

Since she couldn’t refuse, she decided to accept and enjoy the process. There was no point in making things harder for herself. Staying calm would help her live longer.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. He didn’t like passivity, so he directly took Cassandra to the shooting range, a place he was familiar with and wouldn’t make mistakes.

If he were a man in his late twenties, he might have taken a date to the beach or an amusement park. The least he would do is go for a casual stroll. But here he was, bringing Cassandra to a shooting range.

When they got out of the car, Cassandra blinked, her long lashes fluttering. She pointed at the shooting range and said, “Mr. White Uncle, you brought me here to play?”

Lorenzo naturally wrapped his arm around Cassandra’s waist, his other hand in his pocket, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He’d been holding back, at least not smoking in the car.

“This is the best place to release your emotions,” Lorenzo said, guiding Cassandra inside the range.

A few men who had gotten out of the car behind them followed quietly, no longer joking around. They all had serious expressions now.

Cassandra reached out and grabbed the large hand on her waist. “Mr. White Uncle, your hand should go back to its rightful place. Don’t you think?”

Lorenzo lowered his eyes and glanced at her before resting his hand on her shoulder. Then he stretched his hand out toward another direction.

Of course, he was just teasing her. He wasn’t that perverted yet.

“If you dare touch my chest, I’ll kick your balls,” Cassandra blurted out, then quickly covered her mouth, cautiously looking up at Lorenzo. Her clear eyes were filled with panic.

What was she saying? With several men following them, why was she talking about chest and balls?

When she got nervous, she said things without thinking, and it just slipped out.

The men following behind couldn’t help but chuckle, probably not many people dared to speak to Mr. White like that.

Lorenzo wasn’t surprised by Cassandra’s words. She had kicked him before, and it hurt for quite a while.

What a reckless little girl.

At that moment, the director of the shooting range and his staff approached Lorenzo, smiling and extending his hand. “Mr. White, everything is prepared here. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Cassandra stood quietly beside Lorenzo, watching the man in front of them. He was at least in his forties, smiling as though he had seen a fortune.

It was Cassandra’s first time at a place like this. She stayed close to Lorenzo, curious but not looking around much.

The shooting range was huge. The first floor was the reception area, and the second floor had a large lounge with coffee and desserts.

Lorenzo had his arm around Cassandra’s waist, chatting with the director about firearms. Occasionally, he would look down at the little girl beside him. When he noticed her eyes were fixed on the desserts, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Would you like to have something to eat first?”

“Mango mousse and a cappuccino, please,” Cassandra replied, feeling hungry.

The staff quickly went to fetch it.

Lorenzo smiled slightly. He liked Cassandra’s straightforwardness. She didn’t pretend or hide her desires; she said exactly what she wanted.

Cassandra sat on a chair, holding the mango mousse. Lorenzo sat beside her, his legs naturally crossed. His hand rested on the back of her seat, a smile still on his lips as he continued talking to the director.

Cassandra turned to look at Lorenzo. “Do you want to try some?” She was really fond of mango-flavored things.

Lorenzo reached out and gently touched Cassandra’s small face. “Eat it yourself,” he said, then pulled out a cigarette, and one of his men quickly lit it for him.

The director, smiling, teased, “Is she Mr. White’s wife?” He seemed unsure, since she looked a bit young and still seemed somewhat innocent.

Cassandra smiled slightly at the director, her clear eyes narrowing just a little. No matter who the man next to her was, she wouldn’t let anyone insult him—except when she had bumped into Charles with another woman at the banquet.

“Yeah, she’s my wife,” Lorenzo said, changing hands with the cigarette and lowering his head.

Since their conversation with the director was simply a matter of shared interests, there was no need for further introductions.

Cassandra froze for a moment, then fed the dessert to Lorenzo. Didn’t he just say he wasn’t going to eat?

Sure enough, men are fickle.

Lorenzo watched Cassandra, sitting obediently beside him, eating the cake slowly. If there weren’t so many people around, he would have wanted to see if the mousse tasted better from her lips.

A few days later, Cassandra picked up the coffee and handed it to Lorenzo. “It tastes good. Do you want to try some?”

Lorenzo’s lips curled up into a smile. He gently patted Cassandra’s head, like he would a little kitten. “How cute you are,” he said.

“Come, let me take you to have some fun,” Lorenzo said, standing up and offering his hand.

Cassandra quickly put down the coffee and stood up. She had almost forgotten why they were there, distracted by the dessert. It was so good; she wondered if she could take a portion home when they left.

Her mind was completely preoccupied with eating.