ARIA
The laundry room incident replayed in my head for the next two days like a bad loop on repeat. Every time I walked past that damn washing machine, my face got hot and my thighs clenched. I kept catching myself staring at Damian's hands during meetings, remembering exactly how they felt between my legs while the machine vibrated like it was cheering us on.
I was officially losing it.
On the third day, the universe decided to make things even more complicated.
I was in the main foyer organizing a stack of mail when the front gate buzzed. One of the guards spoke into his earpiece, then looked uncomfortable.
"Miss Lyra Sinclair is at the gate," he announced. "She says she needs to speak with Alpha Hawke. It's urgent."
My stomach dropped. Lyra. The same Lyra who had bee
