Hyacinth’s POV
I was fuming. My whole body ached from the landing, and despite my best efforts to escape, here I was, cradled in Vince’s arms like some damsel in distress. I tried not to look at him as he carried me back toward the mansion, but his piercing eyes burned holes into my resolve.
His expression was calm, almost infuriatingly so, as if my escape attempt hadn’t phased him one bit.
“Let me go,” I muttered, squirming against his hold.
Vince’s lips twitched into a smirk, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he adjusted his grip, holding me more securely as if to prove a point. I hated how effortlessly strong he was, how easily he could ignore my protests as if I were a rebellious child.
When we reached the grand entrance of the mansion, he nudged the heavy doors open with his foot.
