Wyatt Hawthorne's expression was somewhat dark, his emotions unreadable.
He narrowed his dark eyes, seemingly lost in memories of the past.
Faye Vaughn grew even more curious. Watching him, she asked, "Is there a reason you can't talk about?"
Wyatt Hawthorne snapped out of his reverie and glanced at her.
Her lovely face was radiant, and her limpid, doe-like eyes shone with inquisitive curiosity, as if she was deeply interested in figuring him out.
More than three years ago, the first time he laid eyes on her, he had been captivated by those very eyes.
They reminded him of someone from his past.
"There's no particular reason I can't talk about it," Wyatt Hawthorne said nonchalantly. "It was just for a bet back then."
"What kind of bet?"
'A bet with whom? What kind of bet would make him willing to risk his life?'
Faye Vaughn felt like she was on the verge of uncovering a vital secret—the real reason she hadn't been able to win him over after all this time.
