The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Wesley sat stiffly on the sofa, the leather creaking beneath his weight, his elbows resting on the arm rest of the sofa, and his eyes fixed on the polished floor. Just next to him, with Willa in the middle, sat Riana, posture perfect as always being composed, elegant, and frustratingly unreadable.
He could smell her perfume. It wasn’t the usual floral sweetness most women wore. It was something lighter, cleaner, with a faint trace of lavender and wild rain. The kind of scent that lingered without asking for attention. He hated that he noticed.
Or maybe, he hated that he couldn’t stop noticing her, especially when the memory of them f*cking hard at the gallery few weeks ago m
