Morana's Point Of View
Nikolai excused himself, disappearing up the grand staircase with slow, effortless strides, leaving me standing alone in his ridiculously extravagant living room.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair, trying to process everything. The opulence of this place. The way he carried me inside without a second thought.
The way he said he wanted me to feel at home. What the hell was this man doing to me?
I took a deep breath, shaking my head as I walked toward the towering bookshelves, pretending to be interested in the titles. But my mind was still reeling, my lips still tingling from his kiss, my body still remembering the way he touched me, the way he felt against me.
I was still lost in thought when I heard the sound of footsteps.
I turned and my breath caught.
He was back.
And he had changed.
Gone was the dark, dangerously expensive three-piece suit.
