ADRIAN POV.
It was another day and another chance to push Vera’s buttons.
I had to keep her angry, keep her frustrated, until she finally gave up and said the words I was waiting for: ‘I want to go home.’
If I wanted out of Mauritius, this was the only way.
It was all set. I had told the butlers to prepare pancakes, but no syrup. Eggs, runny and barely cooked. And black coffee, no sugar, no cream.
They were Vera’s least favorite dish, something she couldn’t stand—and then told them all to take the day off. She wouldn’t see this coming.
Vera came storming down the stairs late in the morning, already in a foul mood. She was still in her robe, hair messy, looking furious.
“Where is everyone?!” she shouted. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up? Don’t they know I’d be hungry by now?”
No one a
