Daisy
Enrique moved with that maddening efficiency of his, folding and packing as though every second of his life were measured by some invisible clock. Within minutes, his suitcase was closed, locked, and resting by the door. I watched him from my vanity, brush in one hand, lipstick in the other, feigning disinterest.
“We leave for Bogotá in ten minutes,” he said, voice low, commanding. That voice of his had a way of crawling under my skin… it was steady, unshaken and with the weight of authority he didn’t truly have. “We don’t have much time. Hurry up, Princess.”
Ten minutes. Of course. I let a smirk curve my lips, dragging the bright red color across my mouth with deliberate slowness. He had returned only two days ago, punishment complete, his slate clean, and yet he dared speak to m
