Sorenson Dodge had hair and beard as white as snow, yet the hand gripping his diamond-encrusted cane was strong and sinewy, and his steps were steady and forceful.
Cecilia had naturally heard of this famous philanthropist, but knowing was one thing—seeing him in person was truly a first.
The old gentleman reached out excitedly to shake Cecilia's hand, his enthusiasm written all over his face, impossible to conceal.
"Miss Vaughn, the Sunset Painting you created together with Sean Grant—would you be willing to sell it to me?"
Since she didn't particularly like physical contact with strangers, Cecilia's elegant brows furrowed slightly, and for a moment she couldn't even recall what he was referring to.
She hesitantly glanced at her own hand, which was still being gripped, and only then did the old gentleman seem to realize his overzealousness had startled the younger generation.
