Silas Thorne stood by the window in a daze. It was probably because of the alcohol; a warmth in his chest raised his body temperature. The fog he had just wiped from the glass pane reappeared, blurring the scene outside.
He hurriedly wiped it again, while Joyce Monroe tilted her head, studying him.
The call hadn't been disconnected yet. He asked again, suspicious, "Joyce?"
"I'm here."
Then, Silas Thorne strode toward the elevator. He didn't even have time to go back to the banquet hall for his coat. He was in such a hurry. All six elevators in the bank were stopped on the twentieth-something floors, and since he was on the fourth, he turned and headed for the stairwell.
In the end, he was practically running!
'Faster, even faster…' He already missed her terribly, but at this moment, the desire to see her, to hold her, reached its peak.
