CINNAMON:
"You dragged me here," I said, keeping my voice low. "I could've stayed at my mom's place. Been warm. Comfortable."
"You're here to work, not vacation."
"And part of working together means you don't treat me like your servant."
"I'm not—"
"You just handed me your credit card and gestured like I'm supposed to fetch."
His eyes narrowed. "You're being dramatic."
"You're being an asshole."
The receptionist's gaze flicked between us, eyes widening slightly.
Dante must've noticed too, because his expression shifted. Still annoyed, but more controlled.
I smiled. Tightly. Then turned to him, batting my eyelashes with exaggerated sweetness.
"Honey." My voice dripped sugar. "The receptionist is waiting. You can finish telling me how much you love me once we get to our room." I l
