Faye Vaughn said in a polite, detached tone, "Mr. Hawthorne, please have a seat."
She gestured toward the sofa.
Vincent Hawthorne scanned his surroundings. It was an ordinary studio apartment, nothing special. If anything seemed familiar, it was the plush, thick, white rug next to the sofa, perfect for sitting on the floor.
Audrey had loved to sit just like that.
"Miss Vaughn, you said Audrey would be calling you tonight. Around what time?" Vincent Hawthorne asked, his expression unreadable as he sat down.
"She didn't specify a time, just that she would get in touch," Faye Vaughn replied, pouring Vincent Hawthorne a glass of water.
Vincent Hawthorne's gaze landed on her slender, delicate fingers.
He hadn't noticed them carefully before. Now that he looked, he saw her fingers were long and elegant, much like Audrey's.
'Is it a coincidence? Or do all beautiful women have similar-looking hands?'
