"Thank you, Uncle Turner!"
Nora Winter had been saved by Alistair Turner—the most ascetic man in the entire capital.
True to form, Alistair hadn't so much as blinked; he'd simply summoned a doctor to treat her.
It was a gratitude Nora had to voice.
Yet Alistair's dark eyes narrowed, his tone icy and detached.
"Thank me for not sleeping with you?"
Before Nora could process the bluntness, he turned away, eyes stormy, and left her with one last line.
"I don't want your thanks."
Because, sooner or later, he was going to fall in love with her.
