Hours had passed, and Adam Jones's foul mood hadn't eased in the slightest. His mind was tormented with the image of Elly Campbell tenderly calling another man darling, which was torturing his nerves.
He stood at the window, holding a glass of red wine. The bright and spacious floor-to-ceiling window reflected his tall figure. In his seemingly empty eyes, a deep accumulation of sorrow settled.
His distinct knuckles just perfectly pinched the stem of the wine glass, his fingertips faintly exerting force, as if wanting to shatter the delicate stem.
Remembering how Elly Campbell had avoided his gaze and appeared guilty when he asked her about that man only further agitated Adam's out-of-control nerves.
He raised the glass and gulped down half of the red wine in one breath, but it didn't extinguish the sporadic flames in his chest; instead, the fire burned even more fiercely.
