Ignatius Leclair's handsome face tilted downward, half-hidden in the shadows of the snowy night, revealing no trace of emotion. Those feelings that grew in the darkness and the unspeakable desires made him unlike himself. Letting go? Impossible. The thing men are best at is achieving their goals without a word.
Ignatius Leclair saw her pale, frigid face and said indifferently, "I'll arrange for Wilbur Turner to be sent to the hospital. Tonight, Nicholas slept at my place for the first time and hasn't been sleeping well. I've come to pick you up."
The man showed no hesitation, using his son as a shield.
Delphine glanced at him warily, seeing his cold demeanor restored, a flicker of doubt overtaking her. She couldn't quite determine how much of her words had reached him.
