The night was thick, and the diffused light from the hotel entrance cast a glow on Lianne's back. She bent down slightly, and a few strands of her hair, caught by the wind, brushed against her porcelain-white cheeks.
Though her full expression was hidden, the gentle curve of her profile suggested a quiet tenderness.
It was a tenderness she had never once shown him.
Not even a fraction of it.
Witnessing this from a short distance away, Seth Sinclair's eyes grew cold, his expression dangerously dark.
"Ethan," Lianne called out twice. Ethan Sinclair's eyelids fluttered open, his deep, inscrutable eyes slowly coming to focus on her face.
Seeing that he was awake, Lianne subtly took a small step back and repeated to Ethan Sinclair, "We're at the hotel."
The quick-witted Hugo Hollis stepped forward to offer his support. "Mr. Sinclair."
Ethan Sinclair waved him off and got out of the car with unhurried composure.
