His words were annoying and disgusting, and I just stared at him, not knowing how to reply. “I didn’t know,” I whispered, shame heating my cheeks.
He straightened up, the intensity receding as suddenly as it had appeared, replaced by that smooth, sociable charm that was just another one of his weapons. “Which brings me to the reason for my visit. I am having a small gathering on Saturday at the villa on the coast.”
My heart skipped. The party. Where we had crafted a beautiful, brutalist structure plan. “I’m not going to one of your parties, Locas.”
“It’s not a request, Milicent.” The charm was gone again, replaced by the flat, immutable tone of command. “It’s an expectation. A necessity.”
He moved closer again, his body blocking out the rest of the world. He picked up a box of oatmeal
