ELARA’S POV
I woke up feeling one thing, one emotion, one dramatic flame burning in my soul:
Annoyance.
Big, loud, noisy annoyance.
And the person responsible?
Milo.
I stomped into the kitchen like a fed-up queen who slept only three hours, almost kissed her bodyguard, then remembered she was supposed to hate him. I was acting cool, but baby, I was anything BUT cool.
He was at the counter drinking coffee like some calm, carved-from-stone Greek statue.
I ignored him.
Walked right past him.
Opened the fridge.
Grabbed juice.
Ignored him MORE.
The man’s eyes were burning holes in the side of my face, but I refused to look. Because if I did, the memories would punch me:
The break-in.
The storm.
His hands on me.
Our near-kiss.
And then me panicking like a clown and running off.
