Lucien Pov
I've been staring at the drink, wondering if the answers lie beneath the liquid in it. Answers to the heated emotions racing through my body. Anger. Hatred. And mostly, self-resentment.
Layla smirks: “That dead-in-the-eyes look? Yeah… heartbreak. Or prison escape. Which is it?”
A slow, almost forced voice whispers seductively beside me.
I tilt my head to see a brunette, her eyes crawls all over me in a way that just makes me wanna throw up. Too much makeup.
One of the reasons I hate clubs.
You come to clear your head, only to run into more problems—dressed in flimsy skirts and undersized tops.
“Not interested.” I lift the glass. Let the noise drown her out. The hot liquid burns my throat as I gulp down the content.
Anything to make me forget my misery.
She smirks: “That
