Miss Josefina: Nobody's Princess

Oliver jolted awake, sensing something was off. In a flash, he grabbed Josefina's wrist, rolling off the bed and planting his feet firmly on the floor. He twisted her hands behind her back, pinning her down on the mattress, their bodies locked in an awkward but intimate position. Josefina winced under his grip.

With a voice dripping with menace, Oliver demanded, "Who sent you?"

Josefina frowned, her irritation clear, and replied in her own unaltered voice, "Oliver sent me."

Oliver? That voice was so familiar. Could it really be Josefina?

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. He quickly let go, helping her up

from the bed. But the face staring back at him was Rosaline's?

He shoved her away, needing distance. Why was Rosaline imitating Josie? Was it to get his attention?

The thought made his tone shift, now cold and suspicious. "What are you doing here?" he demanded icily.

with curiosity-how did Rosaline know his name? Who had

was practically lethal. He assumed a defensive stance, a dagger suddenly appearing in his hand. The moonlight streaming through the window made the blade glint ominously,

the lifelike mask that had hidden her features, then flicked on the bedside lamp. The light was dim, but enough for Oliver to see

gaze wavered, disbelief clouding his eyes. Could this really be the woman he'd

asked, rushing over, his voice a mix of

his bed, scrutinizing

your face, but

the irritation in her voice, Oliver crouched beside her, peeling off his own mask, his

Rosaline? You're

with joy, Oliver grabbed Josefina's hands, but she pushed

me," she complained, rubbing

her wrists, blowing