John Foster's long, narrow eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze locking onto her like a beast fixing on its prey.
Melody felt a chill run all over her body. She lowered her head to look at her wrist being pinched in John Foster's hand, her slender brows knitting hard, revealing a trace of tension and impatience.
John studied her, remembering how, just now, when Melody realized it was him, her face had gone a little green. Looked like what she said about feeling sick because he'd slept with her was actually the truth.
That thought flashed through his mind, stirring a subtle wave of displeasure in the depths of his heart.
