Rain.
I break the hug with Caiden slowly, the warmth of his arms lingering on my skin even after I step back.
The apartment suddenly feels smaller, the air heavier than it was when I walked in. I glance around—nothing looks obviously different. But something is off. The atmosphere is thick, tense, like the room is holding its breath.
My eyes land on Crysta.
She’s half sitting on the back of the couch, arms crossed, face pale in a way that has nothing to do with her usual foundation shade being too light. Normally, when a rich man walks into her orbit, her eyes light up like slot machines, lips curving into that predatory smile she thinks is seductive. She preens. She poses. She starts calculating how much she can squeeze out of him before he figures out she’s a leech.
Right now she lo
