Bella flopped back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling.
Where was he?
She'd been waiting. Dressed like this. Feeling brave and sexy and ready. And he just... hadn't come.
The lingerie felt silly now. She tugged at the lace, second-guessing everything.
But then stubbornness kicked in.
No. She'd gotten ready for a reason. She wasn't going to waste this.
She slipped off the bed and padded quietly to the door. The hallway was empty, dimly lit, exactly as it always was at this hour. No servants. No guards.
She bit her lip, heart pounding, and walked toward his study.
The door was closed. Light spilled from underneath.
She knocked softly. No answer.
She turned the handle and pushed it open and froze.
Leo was on the floor.
Sitting against the wall, legs stretched out, head tilted back. His shirt was wrinkled, top buttons undone. And in his hand—a bottle. Whiskey, by the look of it. Half empty.
He didn't look happy.
He looked... lost.
