Calla furrowed her brows, sitting up and pulling the sheet over her bare skin. The frown on Rico’s face had deepened with every passing second, his features hard and unreadable. He looked… dangerous. Her throat felt tight, but she forced herself to speak.
“What’s… wrong?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t answer. Rico just grabbed his phone and walked toward the bathroom. At the door, he paused, his tone was flat and cold. “Get dressed and leave.” Then he disappeared behind the door, the sound of running water filling the silence.
Calla sat there, confused. Leave? Just like that?
Was he mad at her? Did she say something wrong? But everything had been fine moments ago.
She let out a small scoff and shook her head, trying to mask the sting in her chest.
“Fine,” she muttered under her breat
