ROSE'S POV
I stood at the doorway to the palace kitchen, watching as Taylor hovered over a fresh, golden-brown cake, his fingers inching closer to its edge. The smell of vanilla and butter filled the air, and for a second, I almost forgot why I was there. Almost. I crossed my arms, leaning against the frame as a smirk pulled at my lips.
"Taylor," I said. My voice was low but enough to startle him.
He flinched, his hand freezing mid-air like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. He spun around, wide-eyed, as if he hadn’t just been about to ruin the head chef’s masterpiece. "Rose! You scared me!"
I raised an eyebrow. "I scared you? I think the real shock here is what you're doing." I gestured to the cake. "Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to steal from the kitchen?"
Taylor's guilt
