Domenico
I stepped out of the bathroom, the towel hanging low around my hips, droplets of water tracing lazy paths down my chest.
I needed something to calm my tension, but it looked like the hot water from the shower had done nothing to help.
Just as I walked to the dresser, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
My gaze flickered toward it, and I rolled my eyes instinctively. Leonardo.
Of course, he had impeccable timing—always calling when I least wanted to talk.
I swiped to answer, putting it on speaker as I searched for clothes. “What?”
“Man, you sound thrilled to hear from me,” Leo’s voice, laced with sarcasm, filtered through the speaker. “Just checking in. You’ve been ghosting harder than usual since the big day. Or should I say, the non-big day?”
I could imagine the sly smirk
