Jackson went into the elevator first, followed by a very dawdling Tiffany. To accommodate her, he courtly reached out to the side of the elevator doors to stop them from shutting.
It was a little gesture, but it was enough to add a few more regrets into Tiffany’s mind. She was really beginning to wonder if she had been jinxed by some kind of voodoo when she wanted to break up with him.
Jackson had said nothing the whole time they were inside the elevator. He stared ahead while wearing a stoic, uncaring expression as he casually tucked his hands into both pockets of his jeans. He had rolled up his sleeves to about his elbows, hence exposing a small section of his ivory-fair skin. Clasped on his left wrist was an expensive luxury watch that betrayed his social status.
If one were to describe the aura Jackson exuded, it would be that he was seventy-percent gallantry blended with thirty-percent knavishness.
During their descent, several other guests in the hotel boarded the same elevator. It did not matter if the newcomer was a man or a woman, the first thing they did immediately upon entering was to stare at Jackson for a good few seconds. Slowly, Tiffany was pushed into a pitiful corner, her view reduced to the back of his head.
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