Jesse Rowan hadn't expected such an outcome, indeed aligning with the rumors—Sylvan Cheney was indeed impervious to all persuasions.
Even his girlfriend being taken by someone else left him indifferent.
Is there something wrong with this man?
Or perhaps, in Sylvan Cheney's eyes, women are nothing of consequence?
Jesse Rowan grew increasingly curious.
Halfway through a cigarette, Jesse Rowan allowed Sylvan to leave with Lilac Serval.
He adjusted the collar of his sleeping robe, sauntering lazily back to his own suite.
The floor was covered with red carpet, making no sound as he walked on it.
After passing a living room, he arrived at the largest bedroom.
On the bed, a woman sat hugging her knees, her gaze vacant, her hair disheveled.
She wore only a thin champagne-colored nightgown, her shoulders trembling.
Her head was lowered, as though she had just been crying.
