Chapter Thirty-Eight
Trina’s POV
My feet usher me down the stairs to one of my many unexplored parts of the packhouse, and for some reason, I am unable to stop my pulse from racing and my heart from thumping so loud, loud enough that I can’t remove the possibility of him being able to hear it. I have the reasons all laid out in my head, except, of course, the obvious. Telling myself it is either because of the dimly lit stairway or the fact that I am yet to eat anything all day because of Anne and her one million errands seems like the best option. I can’t dare to think of the other possibility, the more feasible one, if I am being honest with myself.
The sound of soft music filters over to me, almost inaudible throughout the rest of the house. I decipher the lounge is probably soundpro
