Bianca Harrison's POV
Ever since I left that room, something changed inside me. I couldn't define it. This was the first time I spoke aloud about how much pain I was hiding.
Talking to him was so easy. Too easy. That's why I stopped. Because my conscience—that analytical voice that now accompanies me—returned just in time.
Technically, that man is a stranger. As much as his behavior baffles me, he still is.
I took a bath. I needed to relax, to erase the traces of that confession I shouldn't have made.
When I got out, I ran into Mayte: an admirable woman, one of those with an impeccable career in architecture and a warmth that envelops you without asking permission.
"Bianca, my dear, you're not getting away from me today," she said, grabbing my arm with a kind smile.
"Mayte, o
