OLEANDER
I didn't accept his brunch invitation.
I couldn't bring myself to. The thought of sitting at the same table as my enemy, sharing a meal with the man who held me captive, filled me not only with anger but with nausea.
So I stayed in the room. Right there in the corner where he'd left me. Crying. Thinking about my life and how impossible it would be to escape from the monster's den.
By evening, I had exhausted every ounce of strength from crying. My head throbbed. My stomach twisted violently with hunger. My throat burned with thirst. Yet I still didn't move from where I lay.
When night fell, I was ready to die.
The monster holding me captive stepped into the room to end my misery.
I didn't lift my head when the door opened. I already knew who it was.
Dante Corsetti.
Somehow, I had memorised his scent. The quiet ease of his footsteps. The dark, masculine aura that pressed in on me even from a distance.
I swallowed, wincing at the dryness in my mouth.
