Coffee Duties
His words sent a pulse of something dangerous through me.
"You."
The way he said it wasn’t flirtatious or playful—it was a statement. A claim.
A slow inhale. A steady exhale. I refused to let him get to me, but the way my heart pounded made it painfully clear that he already had.
I tightened my grip on the phone. “You don’t own me, Adrian.”
A beat of silence. Then, in that impossibly smooth, deep voice, he said, “Not yet.”
That was it.
I clenched my jaw, my patience hanging by a thread. Without another word, I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the couch as if it had burned me.
A second later, the screen lit up again. I didn’t even have to check the caller ID. I knew who it was.
I let it ring.
Mia’s laughter exploded through the speakerphone. “No. Way. Did yo
