I woke up with my lips still tingling and Adrian's whispered threats about his "appetite" looping in my brain like a corrupt file.
But when I stepped into the kitchen, the man waiting for me wasn't the one who had pinned me to a sofa in the library.
Adrian was already dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, looking every bit the cold, untouchable monarch of the Reyes empire. He didn't even look up from his tablet as I walked in, despite the fact that I was wearing a pinstriped blazer and trousers that cost more than my previous car.
"You are four minutes late," he said, his voice flat.
I walked closer to him, my heels clicking sharply on the marble. "Good morning to you too, husband. Did you leave your soul in the library last night, or is this just the 'Tuesday Morning Dictator' look?"
He finally looked at me, but his eyes were like flint. There was no trace of the hunger from the night before.
