Goodbye, but who knows when we will meet again?
His longing gaze reluctantly withdrew from her.
The evening breeze swayed the lanterns under the eaves back and forth, and the light within each octagonal lantern swayed gently too.
Henry Dales' pale, handsome face flickered in the swaying lights, his pitch-black, soft hair blown by the wind, half covering his brow. The smile on his lips faded abruptly the moment he turned around.
Moments later, the black Bentley gradually disappeared into the distant darkness.
Scarlett Yates lowered her head, fingers gently stroking the long box, her eyes cast down, obscuring her gaze and her expression.
Matthew Saxon wore a grim expression as he carried her into the car.
