"And what if it is Faye Vaughn?"
Vincent Hawthorne retorted.
Wyatt Hawthorne didn't answer immediately. He lifted his gaze and scanned the room.
A faint scent of roses lingered in the air.
They had been together for three years, after all. No matter how little he cared for Faye, he knew she had a preference for roses.
Her body wash and perfume were all rose-based.
Wyatt was already seventy percent certain that Faye was here.
"Brother, there's something I've always wanted to ask you," Vincent Hawthorne said unhurriedly. "How much does Faye actually mean to you?"
Wyatt's handsome face remained impassive. "It's none of your business," he said coolly. "Don't ask."
Vincent shook his head. "How could it be none of my business? If she's insignificant to you, then I have other plans."
Wyatt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Make yourself clear," he said in a cold voice.
Vincent gave a slight shrug. "It's simple. I want to pursue her."
The moment he said it, the atmosphere froze.
