When I wake up the next morning I…have no idea what to do.
I mean, the penthouse is totally quiet – you’d honestly think that I was here alone. But…I was ordered to my room.
Am I allowed to…leave it?
I spend about five minutes wondering and then I huff a frustrated sigh, tossing my blankets off and making a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up before I stride for the door and grab the handle. When I turn it, I’m frankly surprised that it’s not locked.
My leftover anger giving me courage, I stride out into the beautiful main room of the penthouse and plant my hands on my hips, glaring around, ready to face Christian again and resume our argument.
But…he’s not here. It’s just Nico, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee on the table before him, reading the newspaper.
“Finally up?”
