ISABELLA
I didn’t tell Adrian about dinner with Daniel. I told myself it wasn’t a lie — just… selective silence. He didn’t need to know. He wasn’t my keeper. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t anything I owed explanations to. At least, that’s what I repeated to myself as I typed out a different message entirely.
Me:
I drove the Porsche today. Didn’t crash.
His reply came seconds later.
Adrian:
Okay.
I stared at the screen. Okay. Just that. No good, no I’m glad, no be careful, no send me a picture, no did you like it? Just okay.
I tossed my phone onto the bed with a groan. “Infuriating man.”
I changed into something comfortable and padded into the kitchen, hoping food would distract me from the irritation simmering under my skin.
Mara stood at the counter, sleeves rolled, ingred
