Alexia sat across from Rose on the opposite couch, crossing one leg over the other as she set her teacup down carefully. The air between them was polite—too polite. It felt like the kind of stillness that happens right before a storm.
Rose leaned back, flawless and confident, pretending to admire the decor while her eyes subtly flicked to Alexia every few seconds. She’d studied people long enough to know how to read a room. And right now, she could tell Alexia was calm, collected… but not naïve.
When Nate walked back into the living room, Rose’s composure nearly faltered. Her heart skipped a beat—he looked sharp and relaxed all at once, sleeves rolled up, expression soft but guarded. She straightened up slightly, smoothing her hair.
He’ll sit next to me, she thought. He always does.
Bu
