CASSIAN
I sat there like a fucking entitlement king I was, with a perfect smile on my face.
She knew how to grate on my nerves. One minute she made my blood boil with lust; next, she was frying my patience with her tongue; next, she was making me smile.
I massaged a finger on my lower lip, waiting for the next lie to slip out of her.
But I could read her like a book because she was my book. My Ayla. My fucking red hair—she'll always be that to me.
I broke the silence starting to build a wall between us.
I tilted my head slowly towards her, held her gaze.
"I know the child's mine, Bambolina."
I saw the anger flap its wings, the rage in her eyes burning every cell in my body.
Her lips thinned.
My smile faltered.
"You're allowed to dream," she said coolly. "Even I dream sometimes of killing you."
This woman wasn't the soft, desperate person I'd met almost sixteen months ago.
This Ayla was daring, bold, and cold.
My chest constricted.
