'The female lead dies a violent death at her twentieth birthday party...'
The system's words still echoed in her ears.
Someone gave the back of her hand a firm poke. Mia Grant snatched it back, her eyes flying wide.
Yates Donovan's hand froze in mid-air, surprise flashing in his eyes.
'He hadn't expected such a strong reaction from her.'
He quickly recomposed himself. "I called your name a few times, but you didn't hear me. Did I scare you?"
Mia Grant blinked. "I'm sorry..."
Yates Donovan froze for a second, then broke into a smile. "So formal all of a sudden? Got a guilty conscience?"
Mia had apologized for snatching her hand away.
It wasn't that she was repulsed; she had simply been lost in thought, and his sudden touch had startled her.
Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. "I was just thinking about your dream."
"Don't worry, it couldn't have been you," Yates Donovan said, leaning back in his seat, his tone certain.
Mia Grant didn't understand.
