Valentine closed the door of his room behind him.
He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and scoffed in disdain. He strolled further into his room and stood near an antique full-length mirror. His eyes met his reflection, and he glanced at the slight cut that healed as soon as it could.
"Fucking bastard!" he cursed at the recollection of the disgusting look Old Master Lenort had on his face when he threw that knife at him.
With a rough movement of his hand, he reached up to loosen the buttons of his black shirt that hugged his torso. The fabric parted as he took it off, revealing his alluring physique and the faint outline of well-defined abs.
He cast his shirt onto the chair close to him, then fully faced the mirror to look at himself. His frame was lean and sinewy, accentuated by just the right amount of muscle.
His slender waist tapered down to his narrow hips, emphasizing his graceful proportions.
