RETT POV
I knew we f****d up the second Pauline barged into the room.
One second, Robert had just dropped the million-dollar question to her dad—you know, the classic “So, how much do you actually know about us?” bomb—and the guy was about to answer. Then boom. Mahogany doors swung open with a vengeance and in she came.
Hair wild. Eyes on fire. Barefoot. Wearing a hoodie. And looking like an avenging goddess who had been personally wronged by the entire male population.
Ira let out a groan in the back of my head and immediately retreated, muttering, “Told you. We shouldn't have left her. Now deal with it.”
So helpful, as always.
I tried—really tried—to reach out to Robert via mindlink, hoping we could sync up fast enough to do some damage control, maybe offer her a united front, but
