The next morning, I was curled up in bed, wrapped in the softest, most expensive blankets I had ever owned, watching a rom-com on the ridiculously large TV mounted on my wall. The kind of rom-com where the heroine trips over her own feet, lands in the arms of a devastatingly handsome man, and then—boom—they fall madly in love.
I snorted. Yeah, right. If only life worked like that. If I tripped, I would probably land on my face, and break my nose.
Just as the male lead leaned in for the kiss, a knock sounded at my door. Without looking away from the screen, I lazily called out, “Come in.” I figured it was one of the maids coming to collect the breakfast tray.
Only, it wasn’t a maid.
The door swung open, and in walked him.
Sabastine Hale.
Mr. “I’ll Buy Your Pride And Dignity For Ha
