At the Majestic Hotel, in the presidential suite.
Tara stood on the terrace, her gaze drifting to the quiet, overgrown garden below. It was winter, so aside from the pines and cypress standing tall in the yard, the other plants were barely visible under the thick clouds and the faint morning light.
Gustave's face was set in its usual indifferent expression, though there was a hint of helplessness in his deep, wolf-like eyes as he looked at the figure in front of him. The two had left the villa and now found themselves stewing in a shared silence…
Tara glared out the window, her anger growing by the second, especially at the man behind her who refused to say a single word.
So, playing the silent, mysterious game, huh?
Fine. Who can't do that? Let's see if you can ignore me today. If I start talking to you first, then I'm not Tara!
She clenched her teeth, her patience wearing thin with each passing second. When it came to endurance and composure, who could match Gustave?
