"Marissa!"
All four women, Marissa, Senna, Lily, and Esme, froze. They turned as one.
Derek was striding towards them, his long, confident steps eating up the grass. He was dressed in a simple, fine linen shirt, his sleeves rolled up, his coat and cravat absent. A bright, wide, and almost boyish smile was on his face, and his gaze was fixed, with a singular, intense focus, only on Marissa.
Ian followed a few paces behind him, his face as grim and impassive as ever, flanked by two other guards. Each of the three men was carrying a large, flat, and clearly expensive box.
Senna's blood ran ice-cold.
Her knees went weak, her rage instantly extinguished, replaced by a new, dawning, and absolute terror. He's not supposed to be here, her mind screamed. He's never around in the middle of the day! He was supposed to be at the camp until nightfall!
