Gianna
My face flames the second I step downstairs.
Pink. Everywhere.
The couch is draped in pink throws, the counters littered with pink flowers, pink ribbons, pink balloons. The entire downstairs looks like it was attacked by a Valentine’s Day clearance aisle.
I keep my expression neutral and head for the kitchen, pretending none of it exists.
“Careful,” Jerry murmurs as he sneaks up behind me, way too amused for a man his size. “Boss man is totally smitten with you.”
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts.
Yeah, right.
He’s only doing this because I’m mad at him. Because he's scared I won't take him back. And maybe then I would have worked.
Too bad Tamer talked some sense into me last night.
“Smitten,” I say flatly, grabbing a mug, “is one word I’ll never use to describe Dmit
