Yvonne's eyes were red, both hands wrapped around her arms in the cold wind. She stared coldly at the devil-may-care gentleman in front of her and said softly, "What exactly do you want?"
"What do you think?" Zachary Armstrong just pulled open the taxi car door, then immediately stuffed her In th car, and then got in himself.
"Hawthorn Garden."
Hearing him speak, Yvonne turned to look at him again in the pitch-black car compartment, biting her lips hard. In the end she couldn't hold it in and spoke: "Zachary Armstrong, that's my home place."
"Oh, of course I know."
Swept by his gaze, Yvonne right away turned her head to look outside the window. Her two snow‑white arms were especially eye‑catching in the night, crystal clear yet looking more than a little bedraggled.
The car moved steadily all the way. Time passed every minute and every second, and half an hour later, the car stopped at the door front of Hawthorn Garden living compound.
