Sylvan Cheney's hand paused and stopped.
That was something he had once told her.
He wanted her to grow her hair long, and if she found it bothersome, he would wash and blow-dry it for her.
He couldn't fulfill his promises to her, and eventually, some other man would do it for her.
Against the door, he pressed her, his chest heaving unsteadily.
"Is he good to you?" he asked calmly.
"It's none of your business," Jasmine Yale didn't want to answer. "Let me go, I'm heading to the airport; I won't disturb your life."
"The flight to Cakago today is at ten."
Jasmine Yale was taken aback.
Ten.
She definitely wouldn't make it.
"Eat breakfast with me, leave tomorrow," Sylvan Cheney said.
"Have breakfast? Didn't you refuse to eat it? Wouldn't it be good to starve to death?" Jasmine Yale's cold sarcasm dripped from the indifferent curve of her lips.
Knowing she was mocking him, he couldn't help but smile.
"You've gotten sharper," Sylvan Cheney said, pinching her lightly.
