"What's more, it's Sean who tells us to sit, and yet you rejected it. What, are you in charge?" Steward was suspicious that this girl was provoking dissension, feeling the weight of Sean's icy stare. He was trembling, not from cold, but from fear. He'd never dare to act like he ran the place. This girl was stirring the pot, trying to paint him in a bad light.
"If it wasn't for Mr. Bynes speaking up for you last night, you think you could've just walked away scot-free?" Sean lounged back on the plush sofa, casually stroking a well-behaved cub, his tone nonchalant.
Mr. Bynes? Who?
When she and Horace had hurriedly left the night before, she did recall seeing a preppy guy who had spoken up for her at the race track.
Could he be Mr. Bynes? But why would a total stranger stick his neck out for her, not once, but repeatedly?
"Since you're so keen on that island."
Sean didn't finish his sentence before Rosemary cut in bluntly, "It's not that I'm dying to have it."
