Cherilyn Knight's Point Of View.
Time passed, and my determination to visit the Don solidified. I found myself standing before his door, while my knuckles were hovering inches away from the wood. The soft knock I finally managed seemed to contradict the loud thumping of my heart. Anxiety twisted in my gut as I braced myself for what I might find on the other side.
A furious Don perhaps?
It could also be a calm Don (which was very unlikely), or I might walk in on another one of his s****l escapades, which I dreaded most — whether it was with a girl or, who knows, even a boy.
I wondered how he was. Had he fully recovered from his injury? I was sure he was raging mad from the recent failure of his plans, but I hoped his anger had dissipated by then, right?
A nagging thought in the back
