"Do you love Genevieve?"
Mark blinked. Then he wisely replied, "I have no right to love him who has found his love."
Thea slowly nodded. 'What made you like him?'
"I don't know…" in between his thoughts, Marc deliberately paused his sentence.
Marc's memories bring him back to his first encounter with Genevieve Maven.
Nine hundredth year.
On the fifteenth day of spring, Marc found a girl being dragged along and shouted at by a middle-aged woman in dapper clothes. A black silk dress with a low-cut collar that exposed the top part of the chest poked out was the hallmark of the madams who owned brothels then.
