POV: Alaric
"What the fuck are you doing here?" The disgust in my voice was thick enough to cut through steel. My grip on the door tightened as I stared at her–the absolute last person I wanted to see.
June had the audacity to smile, tilting her head like I'd just asked her to move in. "I'm happy to see you too, Alaric," she teased, then reached down to grab her suitcase, stepping forward like she belonged here.
I blocked the entrance. "How the fuck did you get this address?" My tone was colder than the ocean breeze.
June rolled her eyes, all mock innocence. "Your father gave it to me. He also gave me the go–ahead, actually. Thought you might need some… company." She exhaled, "What's the big idea? It's just you and your sister. Another presence – your soon–to–be wife won't kill."
My jaw clenched. That old man was pressing too many fucking buttons, and at this rate, he wouldn't live long enough to keep doing it.
