(Sean's Perspective)
I turn my head and look down at Sandy. Her silvery blonde hair is a thick mass of tangling waves after air drying when we left the reef to return to Shenzhen. She's still the most stunning creature I've ever seen. I tuck a wild strand of hair behind her ear and stifle my urge to maul her at her soft, contented sigh.
"When I asked you about where you met your friend, Carlos, and you told me in a juvenile detention facility, I was stunned," I admit, finally getting to the point I've intended to make.
Dorian gives a mirthless laugh. "As if I wasn't embarrassment enough already?"
"No," I snort. "I'm certainly in no position to throw stones in glass houses. No, what stunned me is that Silas had investigated you—multiple times—and none of that history for you exists." When I look up, Dorian's brows have drawn together and his mouth set into a frown.
"What do you mean none of that history exists? Of course, it exists."
