Amara.
I woke up with a groan, the morning sunlight flickering through my blinds, my body still tingling from last night. Sleep had eluded me, and every nerve, every ache reminded me of Lucien.
I clenched my jaw, dragging myself upright. Someone had to pay for this, and that someone was definitely him.
By the time I finished my bath, I had made my decision about the look I wanted that morning.
I slipped into a short red corporate dress, tight enough to tease, professional enough to provoke.
My heels clicked against the floor as I perfected my makeup, deliberately bold on the lips, smoky eyes that promised mischief. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled wickedly.
Revenge, people say, is a dish best served cold. I disagreed. I preferred mine with a little mind games.
By the time
