JASON
My head lifted from my laptop at the sound of shoes clicking against the marble floor.
It was loud, and sharp. Distracting enough to make concentration impossible. Whoever it was seemed to be taking their time, almost enjoying the suspense from walking.
"Mila," I murmured, already annoyed.
Every Saturday, she played dress-up and paraded herself out like a runway model, demanding validation. Outfits I didn't give a damn about but was somehow forced to care about.
That was Mila.
And I couldn't even tell her no. That was what made it worse. She'd guilt me into doing everything she wanted.
"Come out now," I added, irritation seeping into my voice.
A few seconds passed.
Red heels appeared first. Pointed, polished. Then a long, shapely leg, bare. Smooth. Pale.
Definitely not Mila. She'd just gotten a tan and the heels were too long for her.
I shifted in my chair, my gaze traveling upward until it locked with a familiar pair of eyes.
"Mom?" I said, startled.
