Sara Michaels
“Who are you…” Amanda repeated, her tone was lower now, but edged with something sharper than arrogance and pride.
I didn’t rush to answer. I simply held her gaze, calm and steady, letting the silence settle between us before I spoke. “Someone who understands boundaries,” I said, my voice even, my posture relaxed but firm.
Her lips curled. “You have some nerve,” she snapped, her pride clearly bruised.
“And you don’t have enough,” I replied coolly, placing the card back on the dresser with controlled precision.
Her expression darkened instantly, and before I could blink, her hand flew up fast and aggressive, aimed straight for my face.
But it never landed because I caught her wrist mid-air so clean and effortless.
My grip was firm but not aggressive, my face calm, my br
