19:30
The darkening sky was clogged with thunderstorms. A huge one had suddenly come over the New York skies and there was no evading it with something as measly as an umbrella.
Rogan had just put his car in the underground parking lot and now, with Valerie asleep in his arms, he made his way into his apartment.
She was exhausted, worn out by the activities of her day. Roman could believe that Valerie hailed from a family as rich as the Quinns. She had that delicate sensitivity that he’d ever only seen in children who grew up on beds of roses and soft cushions under their butt.
It was so unlike the cold hardness in the eyes of those who grew up with a cold floor for a bed and pins and needles in their cushions.
What she lacked was their haughtiness. She was delicate like an untouch
