When breakfast was served the next morning, Ryker sat at the dining table and drummed absently with his fingers on the wooden surface.
Zephyrine.
No matter how hard he tried to forget her, her face kept popping back - the bold look in her eyes, the way she looked at him like they had never met.
A loud clatter of silverware brought him out of his thoughts. Camille sat across from him, cutting her fruit with care, but her eyes burned with quiet anger.
She had bombarded him with questions last night. Why was he so spaced out during the meeting? Why couldn't he stop staring at her? He had shut her down, dodging every question, refusing to feed her jealousy.
Camille placed her fork down, her voice deceptively sweet. “Are you ready to answer me now?”
“What are you talking about?” he said,
