Kendrick
I could still smell her perfume.
That sickly-sweet blend of jasmine and dark amber — hanging in the air like a curse. The scent clung stubbornly to the confines of my study, defiling the only place I considered truly mine. I yanked the window open, letting the bitter winter air lash at my face. The cold stung, but it was better than suffocating on the memory of her.
Cindy.
How dare she come here, waltzing into my study like she belonged, like she had any right to stand in this room — in my space. The audacity of her made my chest burn, fury spreading like wildfire through my veins. My hands trembled as I clenched the edge of the desk, fingers curling around the worn wood until my knuckles turned white.
I hated her. God help me, I hated her with a force that felt like it cou
