I arrived at Phillips headquarters at exactly ten in the morning after the enigmas I encountered at the penthouse an hour ago.
Ideas in my head were at a tug of war, fighting to extricate between positive and negative.
My least of worries is what Eugene wants from me when I don't think I have anything in me to offer to anyone ever since Reign marred me for himself.
His book was in my handbag, bundled in a piece of abandoned newspaper I found back in the house. No one should know I have it, not that Eugene would mind about his cousin's stuff being tossed out to the garbage, given his present absorption of strong aversion for his cousin. But he surely would be interesting to know why I have his cousin's belonging with me. And that would be bad.
It is why I decide to cover the book and
