PENELOPE
I choked—literally choked on air.
My glass slipped from my fingers slightly, but I caught it just before it could spill water all over the table. My face burned hotter than the damn sun, and across from me, he sat there, cool as ever, casually cutting into his lamb chops like he didn’t just ruin my entire existence with one sentence.
Alfred? Oh, he was already gone, because even he knew better than to stick around for this conversation.
I cleared my throat, forcing down the sudden lump that had formed. “Excuse me?”
Christian leaned back in his chair, swirling the glass of water in his hand before taking a slow sip. His gaze locked onto me as he set the glass down. “I said… are you going to pretend my face wasn’t buried between your thighs last night?”
“Christian!” I hissed,
