Kate
I froze the moment his words hit me.
"You haven't told me why you were in my room last night."
Damn it.
My fingers twitched at my sides, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. My pulse roared in my ears like a storm refusing to calm. I had hoped—naively—that he wouldn't bring it up. That he'd be too distracted by his ego or the memory of last night to care why I had slipped into his room in the first place.
Slowly, I turned, careful not to meet his eyes. I couldn't. Not when my face was still burning from the cocky way he'd said "It'll happen again." As if I had no control. As if he already owned me.
He didn't. He couldn't.
"I told you," I said quietly, "Bianca asked me to bring something and I... I must have stepped into the wrong room."
It was a terrible lie. One that even I
