569
In the darkness, the blue light of the phone screen was particularly glaring.
"Who is it?" Sienna woke up.
Simon Forrester gently patted her back a few times: "You go back to sleep, I'll go take a call outside."
He picked up the phone and went out, while Sienna lay on the bed in a daze for a while, then got up, put on a robe, and followed him out.
In the living room, only a floor lamp was on, casting a dim and faint light. Simon Forrester stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, bare-chested and muscular. The night view of Los Angeles outside the window resembled an upturned galaxy, the colorful starlight reflected on his resolute and profound face, making his serious expression even more obscure.
At this moment, he had one hand pressed against the glass, the other holding the phone, his thick eyebrows furrowed, quietly listening to the call.
Sienna walked over lightly and sat down on the sofa.
