Annabelle Linton suddenly recalled what he'd said, and her heart twinged with pain.
'To think of how proud and arrogant Leona Grant used to be, and now he was actually comparing himself to others.'
'Why had he become so sensitive?'
'Anyone who was sensitive about a particular thing had been severely hurt by it in the past.'
'So, just her talking to another man was a blow to him?'
'Another man... A blow... Annabelle Linton understood. He was afraid she would leave with Quentin Holland, wasn't he? Just like what happened with Aaron Wyatt?'
'...That silly fool...'
'This constant worry about losing things was the most painful feeling. She had already told him not to let his imagination run wild...'
The more he wiped, the redder it became. Annabelle Linton's lipstick was a high-end, smudge-proof brand. Leona Grant had kissed her a bit forcefully just now, which was how it had transferred to him. A simple wipe like this wasn't going to get it off.
Now he looked even better.
