Wild has made up his mind, and, when that's the case, all the persuasion on earth won't turn him. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. Diane Vorsack was a disaster waiting for a place to happen, with a heartily established dislike for the Beck clan. "I want to know what you've done with the rest of the notes—with the gold— and the papers you took away from my room!" rejoined Wild. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape.
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