Sarah
I strut up to the counter, hips swaying, eyes glinting with mischief. Now that I have my prized possession, my mama's painting, I feel a lot better now.
"Two lattes, please. Extra hot," I purr, gaze sliding to where Vincent sits.
His eyes pin me in place, dark and fathomless. Waiting. Watching.
Always watching.
The chalkboard menu blurs before me as my heart pounds. Damn him. He still gets to me, even now.
The barista clears her throat. "Sorry, what kind of lattes did you want?"
I drag my gaze away from Vincent's, pulse racing. "Caramel macchiato for me, flat white for him."
That's what he ordered. It's not my fault that he is boring!
The barista nods and gets to work as I pay, with Vincent's credit card, of course.
My hands tremble and I clench them into fists. I won't giv
