Skylar Morrison patted her on the shoulder. "Go on, take a look."
Rosalind Lowell nodded.
She returned to the villa to find Alaric Davenport already gone. Seeing the butler and maids cleaning up, she asked, "Where's your young master?"
"The young master just left by helicopter."
Rosalind Lowell watched the maids bustling about. She stood there, feeling lost and completely out of place.
A maid approached with a bouquet. "Young Madam, these are the flowers the young master had prepared for you. He threw them away, but I thought it was a shame since they're so beautiful. Did you two have a fight? He had us set all of this up, only to tell us to take it all down again."
Rosalind Lowell's gaze drifted into the distance, her mind in a daze.
For some reason, her hands felt weak—too weak to even take the bouquet.
The maid smiled, pressing the flowers into her hands. "The young master is such a good man. Madam, you should hurry and coax him back."
