Chapter 2: Shadows of the past
Abigail observed as the color seemed to drain from his face, and he reclined in his chair. Remo Quinn was undoubtedly a handsome man.
His voice carried a deep, enigmatic resonance, accompanied by a subtle hint of an accent.
He appeared to tower at least six feet tall, possibly even nearing six foot four, his shoulders broad and his arms exuding power, the muscles visibly flexing under the casually unbuttoned, crisp white dress shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms inked with tattoos.
His hair, thick and luxurious, held the hue of dark chocolate brown, gracefully falling in soft waves and curls that framed his ears and neck with precision.
Illuminated by the fire’s gentle glow, there were shimmering streaks of burnished gold, creating a captivating interplay of light and shadow.
His face was sculpted, boasting high cheekbones, a strong square jaw, and a subtle hint of a cleft chin.
An aristocratic nose, framed by thick, dark brows, further enhanced his striking features. Yet, it was his eyes that truly held Abigail’s attention—vibrant brown, a captivating and deep gaze.
She comprehended why her friend Izabella was passionately in love with him, why she had risked everything to be by his side.
Sadly, life proved to be cruel, denying her the happily ever after she yearned for.
"W-where did you get this picture?!" He bellowed looking at the picture on the table.
It was like he was looking at a ghost, his fingers tremble slightly as he pointed at the picture.