Blackstone Code

The girl looked down at herself but didn’t noticself-improvemente anything wrong. It was her first time doing something like this, so she felt awkward and a little shy.

That shyness was what set her apart from the others. Look at the girls around—most of them could hardly wait to take off even their underwear and throw themselves at someone. The girl standing beside Lynch was still shy.

She used to be proud, which made her bad at pleasing men.

After all, whether they were outstanding or not, boys had always flocked around her. She was used to being flattered, not to flattering others.

“I… I don’t know, Mr. Lynch,” she said, standing in front of him as his hand moved from her hair to her shoulder.

For a moment, her eyes showed hesitation, an instinct to pull away. But reason stopped her.

Goosebumps rose under Lynch’s fingers. It was amusing.

“Let’s go somewhere else. Too many people here…”

Lynch withdrew his arm. His right hand curled naturally, thumb resting on the first joint of his index finger, positioned just below his shoulder at waist level—near his belt. This posture left his elbow slightly bent and angled outward, creating a triangle under his arm.