~SARA~
The dining room behind me—at the other section of the hall—buzzes with activity as the servants set the cutlery on the table.
I sit on the edge of a velvet couch, hands folded in my lap, eyes drifting aimlessly around the room.
The whole place screams money. Velvet couches, a chandelier overhead, tall windows stretching from floor to ceiling.
Just then, I hear footsteps approach from behind.
I don’t bother to turn . The familiar steps of evil and mischief tells me all I need to know.
Jason.
“Sara.”
I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath, snapping them open as I turn.
He stands at the doorway that separates the sitting room from the rest of the hall.
He’s wearing a white cotton T-shirt—the kind elites wear at golf clubs. His hands are tucked into matching trousers, and h
