Kate’s POV
"Welcome back, Sir."
I paused as Peter’s voice echoed from downstairs, and the book in my hand nearly slipped, the one I’d only grabbed because boredom was starting to feel like a physical weight.
He was back?
"Where’s Kate?"
Oh, f**k. It really was him.
I broke into a half-run toward my room. My Sunday night ended with a racing heart and unsteady hands as I threw the bolt on my door, knowing he might make a stop here. It was rich of him to ask about me the second he stepped through the door. He could have at least messaged me or even replied to my text from the night he stumbled home reeking of Soju. Using that as an excuse to check on me would have been better than this.
I mean, a simple:
“Hi, I’m just seeing your message, sorry. I’m away and won’t be back until Sunday
