And just like that, Leona Grant was left all alone.
By ten p.m., Annabelle Linton and Ashley still hadn't returned.
Leona Grant listlessly watched an American show on TV, taking an irritated swig of his drink. He was clearly growing impatient.
The dim light playing across his stoic face accentuated its sharp, handsome features.
His half-rolled sleeves and the top two buttons of his shirt left undone gave him a rebellious air. Even in his languid state, his every expression radiated an innate, captivating dignity.
He'd lost count of the cigarettes he'd smoked and the number of times he'd glanced out the window, yet that damn woman still wasn't back.
'Did Ashley Grant lead her astray? Did they go to a nightclub?'
Leona Grant figured that was a strong possibility.
'Annabelle Linton is so aloof; she'd never want to go to a place that crowded.'
Leona Grant couldn't sit still any longer. He shot up from his seat.
