For Jasper, she was willing to do anything.
Adrian's eyelids were thin, his irises as deep as a starless night, silently watching her for a while.
He tossed out four words: "Marry me."
Serena's face flashed with a hint of surprise. She reached out and pushed away the hand gripping her chin, saying,
"I refuse."
She agreed to him in order to draw a clear line—not to deepen their relationship.
Adrian lowered his gaze at her, his voice cold, as if just now had only been a test: "If you refuse, then don't put on a face like you're willing to do anything."
Serena's lashes were thick and curled, like a finely crafted fan, her eyes black and bright, glittering under the lamplight.
These soul-stealing eyes, once, had gazed at him with infinite tenderness.
But now, she saw only another man.
Whenever Adrian thought of this, his fingers ached, as if a sharp needle were being savagely stabbed into his fingertips.
Ten fingers, one heart—piercing, bone-deep pain.
