Rose’s fingers tightened around the doorknob as she stared at Christian.
He was calm, way too calm. But there was something dangerous in his blue eyes, something controlled yet simmering just beneath the surface, like a storm waiting for permission to break loose.
“We need to talk,” he repeated, his voice low and rough.
Behind her, Evelyn hovered uncertainly, her gaze flickering between the two of them. The tension was crackling through the air.
“I’ll be in my room,” Evelyn murmured after a beat, wisely choosing to retreat.
The soft click of a door closing barely registered in Rose’s ears.
Her heart pounded so loudly it echoed in her skull.
Because she wasn’t just mad.
She was hurt. Deeply and profoundly hurt.
She crossed her arms, feeling the brittle shell she’d built around hers
