When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was that the ceiling was too high.
Like, way too high.
And the second thing I noticed? This definitely wasn't my room.
Thick white curtains fluttered gently at the balcony doors. The bed I was in could fit three of me—maybe four if we squeezed tight. The pillows smelled faintly of lavender and something warmer, something expensive. There was a chandelier hanging above me, the kind that screamed "I'm rich but I pretend I don't care."
And the third thing I noticed?
I was alone.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes and trying to piece together how the hell I got here. The last thing I remembered was sitting in Claude's car after the long drive to his villa. I'd been sulking, arms crossed, pretending not to be tired when, in fact, I was seconds away from passing out.
So… yeah. I guess I passed out.
Which brought me here.
