The man was embracing the girl from his family, tenderly and intimately. He reached out and took the cigarette from her fingertips, as if proclaiming his dominance, his thin lips bearing the mark of her lipstick...
George River's eyes turned red and filled with rage, his hands clenched into fists, the veins standing out on the backs of his hands.
He was still enduring.
Old Sir River had ordered him not to fight with Arnold Simmons.
But why?
Arnold had murdered the parents of his beloved brother, who was still missing and unaccounted for to this very day. Now he was watching Hannah standing next to him, but was helpless to do anything.
Arnold snuffed out the lit cigarette, not sparing a glance for George, his gaze fixed on his girl as he asked in a low, hoarse voice, "Had enough of playing?"
"Not yet." Hannah leaned her head on the man's shoulder and looked up at him.
Her lips, as tender and mesmerizing as flower petals, glistened, tempting one to pick.
