The sun was already setting, casting golden streaks across the grocery store parking lot as I stepped outside. Warm light filtered through the clouds–but inside me, a storm brewed.
I clutched the neatly packed paper bags, arms aching, fury simmering just beneath the surface.
And then, I stopped cold.
The black Aston Martin was gone.
My jaw dropped. I spun slowly in place, scanning the lot in disbelief.
Maybe–just maybe, he’d parked somewhere else.
He hadn’t.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
A sharp breeze tugged at the hem of my dress, but I barely felt it. My hands were shaking.
I yanked my phone out of my pocket and ordered a ride back to his estate, trying to steady my breathing.
—
By the time I reached the kitchen entrance with the groceries in hand, I was one hear
