Grace's POV
I pressed my back against the door, waiting for Carlos to finish getting ready.
My body felt drained, my legs trembling beneath me like they might buckle at any moment. Frustration and restlessness churned inside me, though I fought to push those emotions down. The problem was Carlos didn't seem to take me seriously—not the way he should.
"This is for the best," I whispered to myself. "Better to think of this San Francisco trip as just a brief getaway. Once we're back in Los Angeles, we can pretend we're strangers. I've got my own goals, and I won't let some passing attraction mess up my long-term plan to become a wealthy, independent woman."
Once I'd gathered enough composure to stand steady, I moved to the lengthy couch outside the bedroom, pulling out my phone to check for any urgent messages from my top authors.
But my attention locked onto a text from the night before.
The number was unfamiliar, yet the opening line immediately revealed who'd sent it.
—
