The sheer scale of the place was overwhelming. As the private jet taxied to a stop, Evelyn looked out the window and saw a private golf course, an artificial lake, a massive glass greenhouse, and a wine cellar. In the distance, she could faintly hear the sound of ocean waves crashing against the cliffs.
She stepped off the plane right outside a three-story white castle.
Two rows of bright white streetlights lit up the driveway, and a fountain in the garden was swirling with fresh spring water. The massive front doors of the castle were wide open. Standing right there at the entrance was Michael Thorn, wearing a black silk nightgown. He was slowly swirling a glass of red wine, his deep, dark eyes locked onto her as she walked toward him.
