Chapter 900

Francis Coleman stared at Patrick Collins, his brows tightly knitted, his face darkening fast. "You don't have to get it, but don't you dare trash-talk about it." Patrick's expression soured even more. "Hah... The way you're defending him, you two really are in some messed up relationship." Francis gripped his phone tighter and suddenly stood up. "Yeah, we are. It's disgusting, right? I'm actually starting to feel sick breathing your air. So yeah—I'm out." With that, he turned toward the door. "Francis!" Patrick stood too, grabbed the back of Francis's collar, and yanked him right back down onto the couch. "You think I'm just gonna let that slide?" Francis let out a cold, dry laugh. He knew exactly why Patrick was mad—because the guy couldn't stand losing control over someone he thought was in the palm of his hand. Now that things weren't going his way, he couldn't handle it. It was just hurt pride, nothing more. "You that desperate for a guy?" Patrick said, his face twisted in anger.