The surroundings suddenly fell silent.
Jesse Rowan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, finishing an entire cigarette before lazily walking over and nudging Joan Harry's leg with his foot.
Joan Harry shrank back to the edge of the bed in panic, her red-rimmed eyes lifting to meet his.
Jesse Rowan sneered, "Looking at you like this, I'm almost convinced you're plotting to kill me."
His bare foot lightly rubbed against her fair, smooth leg.
So soft. The texture felt incredible.
Joan Harry didn't respond, her face blank and expressionless.
"That food's yours?" Jesse Rowan's gaze landed on a takeout container on the table, which appeared to have gone cold.
"Mm."
"Why didn't you eat it?"
"..."
"Oh, how could I forget? Eating isn't as urgent as running away, of course." A mocking laugh escaped Jesse Rowan again.
Joan Harry bit her lip but didn't say a word.
Jesse Rowan's foot continued to rub against her leg, a look of satisfaction on his face.
