The world around him suddenly dimmed. A pair of white sneakers stepped onto the muddy flagstones, and as he looked up, his gaze froze. His breath caught in his throat.
A girl was holding an umbrella in her half-raised hand.
Despite the late autumn chill, she wore only a long-sleeved white dress. The light under the umbrella was dim, slightly blurring her silhouette, yet he could still see her with exceptional clarity. A faint smile graced her small, palm-sized face. She had a very clean, fresh look.
"Sir."
She called him "sir." Her voice was delicate, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. Her gaze was bright, yet exceptionally pure, as if untouched by a single speck of worldly grime.
Caleb Sullivan was a bad man. He'd done many terrible things without so much as blushing or his heart skipping a beat. But in this moment, even his eyelashes trembled. "What are you doing?"
