Rico watched Calla as she struggled to find her words. She didn't stutter, but her lips fell open and closed again. She couldn't meet his eyes.
Her fingers tightened around her phone, too hard that it might snap in two.
Rico tilted his head an inch, setting his fork and knife down with a soft click, and gave her his full focus.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said again, his brows creasing.
Her face was as white as snow, like she'd witnessed something so horrific.
"It's— nothing," she stutters, her eyelids flickering.
For a second, she forgot the type of man Rico is. When one says 'nothing', it automatically translates to 'secrets' to him. And right now, Calla was doing just that.
"What are you hiding from me, Lyra?" He asked, this time his voice was firm and serious, as t
