Delphine was embraced by the man, her nose filled with the cold scent of mint. She paused, unsure of what to say, maintaining her usual silence.
Ignatius Leclair waited for a long time, and when he saw the woman in his arms remain as unyielding as an unfeeling stone, a flicker of disappointment and melancholy flashed through his deep phoenix eyes.
The man let go of her, opting instead to carry her into the car.
Delphine was caught off guard and quietly asked, "What's wrong with you?"
Ignatius furrowed his brow, his thin lips pressed tightly together, then lowered his gaze and pressed his hand to her slender waist, moving to undo her top.
Delphine's expression shifted slightly as she reached out to stop his burning hand, softly saying, "Don't."
They were so close to the film crew here. No matter how reckless Ignatius behaved at home, she could endure it, but here—not here.
