Alina’s POV
The knock on my door came mid-morning, crisp and authoritative in a way that could only be Ronan.
I’d been lying in bed staring at the ceiling for the better part of an hour, replaying last night’s disaster on an endless loop. Jaxon’s mouth on mine. His accusations. The taste of whiskey and desperation. The way he’d walked away like I was…. toxic and he needed to escape.
“Come in,” I called, not bothering to sit up.
Ronan entered looking immaculate as always—pressed shirt, perfectly styled hair, that aura of controlled precision that made everything he did look effortless. His green eyes swept the room, taking in my rumpled appearance and the fact that I clearly hadn’t left my bed yet.
“We’re having a gathering tonight,” he said without preamble. “It’s a tradition after ra
