Aiden Shaw leaned over and tapped his cigarette ash into the ashtray on the desk. "You really are ruthless. How could you go to such lengths? Didn't you feel the slightest bit of guilt watching Caleb Cross get beaten?"
"I didn't! I didn't! What will it take for you to believe me?"
Naomi Neal sobbed, her voice hoarse as she tried to defend herself.
CRASH! The ashtray hit the floor, sending shards of glass flying everywhere.
The depths of Aiden Shaw's cold eyes seemed to be shrouded, then devoured, by darkness.
"Naomi Neal, neither of us are celebrities. It's not like we'd get photographed just for going to a bar. Besides, those guys from last night have already admitted you paid them to stage the whole thing."
Aiden Shaw's piercing voice was terrifying, enough to make one's blood run cold.
Naomi Neal froze as if she'd been petrified, standing stock-still as the expression on her face slowly began to crack.
