KAIA
My mouth falls open.
“Worried? Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap, even though my heart skips like a faulty record. “I’m just… pointing out facts. Facts that apparently your brain cells are too soaked in vodka to process.”
He chuckles low, the sound rough and uneven like it’s dragging itself out of his chest. “Vodka, huh? Close. Whiskey for us.” He tips the bottle lazily in my direction, like he’s toasting me. “Classier poison.”
I throw my hands up. “Oh, great. So instead of wrecking your liver with cheap alcohol, you’re… what? Giving it luxury treatment? Bravo, Ronan. Brilliant.”
His lips twitch again, that almost-smile that doesn’t quite make it. His eyes are heavy and darker than usual, the slur slipping deeper into his words. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, Kaia. Always talking, alw
