Annabelle Linton looked annoyed once she saw who it was. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you."
"How did you get in?"
"The window."
Annabelle Linton: "..."
'His fever was so bad this morning she'd called for an ambulance... and she'd forgotten to close the window.'
Still, this was the sixth floor. She had no idea how he'd managed to climb up.
Leona Grant looked at Annabelle Linton.
She wore a black silk robe that hugged her graceful curves. The V-neckline offered a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. With her damp hair draped over her shoulders, she looked utterly alluring, exuding a freshness that was almost impossible to resist.
Her cold, indifferent expression, in particular, sparked a primal urge to ravage her.
Leona Grant's Adam's apple bobbed, and he forced himself to look away.
Annabelle Linton sat on the sofa and wearily pinched the bridge of her nose. "You can go now."
"I'm not leaving."
