Faye's hands stilled. She seemed startled by him, her voice shrinking to a whisper. "I'm sorry, Second Young Master Hawthorne. I forgot you're a germaphobe."
She struggled to get up.
But her every move was torture.
Vincent Hawthorne's voice was hoarse and stern. "Faye Vaughn! I told you to stop squirming!"
Snapped at like that, Faye froze, unsure whether to get up or stay put.
She paused, the picture of innocence.
It was a terribly awkward position.
Vincent Hawthorne's hands were tied, leaving him unable to move. Otherwise, he would have gripped her by the waist, lifted her, and moved her aside.
"Vincent, why are you being so harsh?!"
From below the ring, Finn Hawthorne couldn't see how they were positioned, only that his second brother's tone was nasty—vicious, even.
He fumed, "What's the big deal if Faye Vaughn hits you a few times? You're a grown man. Can't you handle a little pain?"
