"You're going on a bed date with Valerian the hottie, not off to church to play Mother Teresa!" Bree chirped, watching as I checked myself out in the mirror.
The minute I walked into the room, her judgmental eyes locked onto me. I had no choice but to give her a bit of the story—well, not everything.
Seriously, this woman has eyes everywhere.
"Look, I’m not actually going to his room. What am I, a bimbo?" I said, wrapping my coat around my waist. "I'm heading out. I need some air."
"Because he banged you hard on that yacht?" she shot back, smirking as she poured herself tea.
"Very decent of you, Bree," I snarked, flipping my hair back and grabbing my purse. "If Dad asks, tell him I went out to date myself."
"Yourself, or with your Valerian?" she teased.
I shook my head, left the roo
