FLORA’S POV
Alexander Bennett.
Mr. Bennett stood there, in all his intimidating, finely-tailored glory, with the air of someone who owned the world—or at least, a very large portion of it. His sharp gaze was fixed intently on me, making my heart hammer in my chest like a malfunctioning drum. For a moment, I felt completely rooted to the spot, words utterly failing me.
“I—Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I finally blurted, my face flaming red as I scrambled to set the tray down, reaching instinctively for napkins or, better yet, a hole in the ground to disappear into. Just when I managed to find a napkin and handed it to him, Ms. Anderson swooped in like a hawk spotting a mouse.
“Oh my God, Sir!” she shrieked, somehow materializing beside me in an instant. “Look what you’ve done, you clums
