Leila's POV
I couldn't get the image out of my head.
Luca's face when he walked into the room, the way his jaw had tightened, the awkward stammer of "Sorry—sorry—sorry" spilling from his lips as though I had burned him alive.
The door had slammed behind him so fast it rattled the frame, and I had just stood there, frozen in the middle of the room with nothing but droplets of water on my skin, humiliation sinking its claws into me.
He couldn't even look at me. That's what stung the most.
I'd tried to tell myself it was just the shock of the situation, he wasn't expecting me to be bare, so of course he panicked. But a part of me whispered darker thoughts. Maybe he was disgusted. Maybe my body, natural and untouched, wasn't what a man like Luca Anderson would ever want to see. His type
