LEILA
.
.
Three goddamn days had crawled by since the f****d-up dinner party.
Three days since Damien’s mouth had been on mine, since his eyes had held that mix of pain and command, two days since the broken phone had been sent back, practically a new one.
Three days since Misa had thrown up all over my new dress, effectively ending any lingering fantasy of elegance from that night, and three days since Damien himself had been avoiding me like the plague.
That.
That said it all.
He did kill her.
That was the only goddamn thing this avoidance could mean and at my end I was still rationalizing, still grooming Gerald to ask him directly because, yeah, a day to today, I had tried speaking to him.
It was when they’d called everyone in for breakfast, which ended up getting ca
