The black silk robe glistened in the sunlight, loose and flowing, its hem swaying between his strong, straight legs.
Looking past his shoulder, she could see the yellowing plane tree leaves, most of the withered leaves had fallen, leaving half still trembling on the branches, rustling when the wind blew.
Scarlett Yates rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed.
She stared blankly at that familiar back of the head, rubbed her eyes again hard, and wondered if she was dreaming.
Before she fell asleep, she was still on the plane. How did she wake up in Matthew Saxon's room?
Indeed, the moment she opened her eyes, she found herself in Matthew Saxon's bedroom. Everything from the familiar scent in the air to the furnishings in the room was exactly like Matthew Saxon's bedroom.
And that figure in black standing by the window, who else could it be if not Matthew Saxon?
