DIMITRI POV.
“Don’t follow me.” That was the first thing Rose told me when she decided she wanted to go grocery shopping. Not order it, not send servants, she wanted to go herself.
“You hate crowded places,” I reminded calmly, watching her pull a sweater over her shoulder. “I hate hospitals too, and you still dragged me there.”
Fair point. I leaned back against the couch, watching her carefully. “You are still injured.” “And you are still controlling.”
I almost smiled at that, almost. “You have one hour,” I finally replied. “After that, I come for you myself.” Her eyes narrowed immediately. “You timed me?” “I always time you.”
She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a psychopath before snatching the car keys from the table. I let her.
Mostly because she
