AMARA’S POINT OF VIEW.
I sat dressed in the knee-length pink dress my father picked out for me to wear at tomorrow’s dinner with my fiancé. The soft baby pink color made me feel youthful and innocent as I pulled on the soft, silk material.
I hate this dress.
All I want to do is rip it to shreds and set the shredded pieces on fire….as long as it meant I didn’t have to meet him tomorrow.
My skin flushes all of a sudden, as the hair on my arms rises with goosebumps. I know that feeling anywhere.
He’s here….Ace.
But how? I’m on the highest floor of my father’s mansion, and even though he isn’t home, my father’s butlers would not let anyone in without his permission….so where is he?
I looked at my balcony, expecting to see him there, but I was met with the blast of the cold night air, an
