The moment the door slammed shut behind Draven, Philipa let out a deep breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.
“Finally…” she muttered under her breath.
Her heart was still racing.
She quickly rearranged her few belongings, stuffing them neatly under the bed and pushing her bag aside. Without wasting another second, she hurried into the adjoining bathroom and locked the door behind her.
The bathroom was spacious—far too spacious for a student hostel. Everything smelled strongly masculine: cold stone, metal, and something sharp and dominant that clearly belonged to Draven.
Philipa leaned against the door and closed her eyes. “Philipa… you’ve got this,” she whispered to herself. “You didn’t come this far to break now.”
She reached under her uniform and began unwrapping the tigh
