Liana’s POV
The suite was absurd.
Floor-to-ceiling windows held an ocean that had been painted by a drama queen. There was an infinity pool, and rose petals scattered on the floor like some flight of fancy at romance—but all I could smell was money, the suffocating kind, stacked high with manipulation.
But the bed?
The bed brought me to a standstill.
A king-sized abomination, shrouded in silk sheets, something out of a cheap romance novel. I wanted to torch the whole damned thing just to get rid of the shame it filled me up with.
Slowly, cricking my neck with tension, I turned, standing before the man who thought this whole production was romantic.
"You're joking," I informed him, flat voice, squinting eyes like blades.
Dante blinked not. He walked past me, that same smirk as walk
