The night deepened.
The surroundings quieted down.
Jasmine Yale lay on the velvet bed, her small hand clutching the duvet.
As Sylvan Cheney switched off the light, darkness enveloped everything, with only the hazy moonlight filtering through the curtains.
She couldn't sleep.
In the study, the man stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows holding his cell phone.
In the depths of his gaze lay the tall trees ahead, extending into dense white frost and mist.
"Mr. Cheney, do you really not care about your girlfriend's well-being?" Jesse Rowan teased on the other end of the line.
"Jesse Rowan, is Joan Harry still with you?"
"What are you talking about? As if she's 'with me' against her will," Jesse's laugh was insipid. "That's right, she's here with me, but we're mutually enamored."
"What do you want, calling me?"
"I just thought I'd try my luck with a call. I didn't expect Mr. Cheney to pick up. I thought at this late hour, Mr. Cheney would be making love to some woman."
