Sylvan Cheney walked to her side and leaned over to clearly see the expression on her face.
He stood there for about ten minutes before Jasmine Yale made any movement.
Perhaps the oppressive feeling Sylvan Cheney brought was too intense; she moved her fingers slightly and groggily opened her eyes.
As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw Sylvan Cheney standing there in a sleek black suit, with a neatly tied tie.
Seeing his gaze fall on the drawing in her hand, Jasmine Yale's face turned pale, and with a sudden motion, she sat up and tore the drawing.
She haphazardly stuffed the pieces into the trash can, her hair messy, her breath slightly uneven.
His deep, inscrutable gaze was still on her face, making Jasmine realize her reaction was excessive, almost like admitting guilt.
Foggy from sleep.
She steadied herself and looked at him: "Accidentally fell asleep. Are you back for lunch?"
"Butler Santana said you hadn't had breakfast."
