As Everly got into the car, she inadvertently glanced at the man beside her. The man had one leg crossed elegantly over the other, sitting with perfect posture, hands resting naturally on his lap. His exquisitely chiseled features remained hidden in the dim light, the sharp and chilly contours partly visible, exuding a mysterious sense of restraint.
After a while, she suddenly spoke, “Thank you for earlier. Even without Vincent’s help, I could have handled the situation. But still, you were kind, and I have to thank you for that.”
Vincent turned his gaze toward her, a hint of laziness in his eyebrows and eyes. “Just words?”
Everly paused for a moment, surprised by his bluntness. Then, she thought about it; her mere verbal thanks seemed a bit insincere. “What kind of gratitude do you wan
