Ovelia's POV
The bedroom door slammed behind us with finality. Ace released me only to brace both hands against the wall, his breathing ragged. When he finally turned, the anger had banked to something more dangerous—a smoldering intensity that made my knees weaken.
"Explain," he demanded. "Now."
I took a steadying breath, straightening my flour-dusted apron before meeting his stormy gaze. With deliberate slowness, I reached up to my neck and scratched exactly where Ann had earlier.
Ace's expression went blank. "...An itch."
"An itchy neck," I confirmed evenly, watching realization and shame war across his handsome face. "Satisfied?"
His throat worked visibly. Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees before me and pressed his forehead against my abdomen in silent surrender. The fight drained from his body, leaving only trembling vulnerability in its wake.
His next words came muffled against my stomach. "Goddammit, Lia... I thought..."
