I don't even know how long I've been waiting when the hotel doorbell rang.
Jasmine Yale was dozing off, leaning on her palm, but when the doorbell rang, she jumped up and ran over wearing her slippers.
Outside the door stood Sylvan Cheney.
She was shorter than him, looking up, her big watery eyes fixating on him.
He had changed into a black overcoat, his brows and eyes still fierce and uninhibited, exuding an aura of arrogance, elegance, and a cold detachment.
The orange light of the hotel cast on his face, softening the sharp angles of his features.
She looked at him, and he lowered his eyelids.
"I knew you would come," she leaned against the doorframe.
She felt immensely favored that a simple text message summoned him here.
In Landon, this was a profound honor indeed.
Sylvan Cheney's hands were in his coat pockets, standing a step away from her.
"Got something to tell me?" Sylvan looked at her.
"Yeah, come in," Jasmine Yale turned her head.
