Perhaps she was too pitiful. So pitiful that even Damian Fairchild, standing there on the deck, couldn't bear to watch any longer.
Finally, Damian Fairchild spoke up. "But, Miss Quinn, aren't you begging the wrong person?"
His voice was so cold, the wind seemed to scatter it into the sea as soon as it left his lips.
The sea breeze chilled Seraphina Quinn to the bone.
Her pupils contracted sharply. Her heart clenched in her chest, shrinking again and again. Pain and humiliation swallowed her whole.
Tears streamed down her face as she smiled, and she withdrew her gaze.
She lowered her head, her voice so soft it seemed to dissolve into the wind. "Can you please let go of my hair?"
She said this to Caspian York, who was still standing there, stunned.
Caspian York let her go, but his gaze was probing. "Who are you? What's your relationship with Mr. Fairchild...?"
