Evelyn Grant instinctively looked up and scanned her surroundings, finally spotting a Rolls-Royce not far away.
The car window was lowered, revealing a pale, slender hand resting casually on the sill. Faint blue veins stood out on the back of the hand, and an expensive black watch was clasped around the wrist. The fingers tapped idly against the car's surface.
The air of unhurried calm, of languid nobility, made Evelyn Grant's heart skip a beat.
Even without seeing his face, she could imagine the impassive look he wore.
Liam Aldrin was on the phone.
He'd ignored the incessant calls from his subordinates, but a call from his own father was one he couldn't refuse.
He frowned, a look of pure annoyance on his face.
Evelyn Grant was caught in the middle, her feet seemingly rooted to the spot, unable to take a step in either direction.
'My childhood friend is more important than anyone, but Preston Keaton…'
She truly didn't dare to provoke him.
