Amelia’s POV
I'm not so much of a morning person, unless morning falls over the hours that slip past noon.
My eyes flutter open to a pounding head, smudged makeup from last night, and the faint smell of smoke from the club still clinging to my hair.
I turn to my side of the bed to find Nadya sprawled across the couch, shoes kicked off, one arm dangling over the side.
Surprisingly, she lies peacefully on the couch like the night was nothing more than a harmless adventure.
But me? I can’t quite shake the feeling.
The club, the men, the stranger who stepped in like he knew exactly when to appear and when to vanish into the crowd without a trace.
But then again, that tattoo has for some reason burned itself into my memory. I perk up to my feet after a long couple of minutes, headed for
