Unwilling to impose, Vera made a swift exit.

Once she’d gone, Waylen sauntered over to the door, closing it with a soft click.

Turning back, he found Rena’s gaze fixed on him.

Approaching, he picked up a crystal glass, sniffing its contents.

Rena’s visage, flushed, revealed her inebriation.

Settling beside her, Waylen delicately swept back her hair, his tone tender.

“Are you still upset?”

at the bar counter, gazed into the

isn’t what anyone wants.

smiled, a confession in

“Jealousy.”

braced for

gentleness disarmed her, breeding

this was no setting for an

They departed together.

the driver’s seat of his black Rolls-Royce, Waylen, still

Rena averted her gaze.

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