–Livana–
"You are fucking stubborn!" Lore barked—a nineteen-year-old brat scolding a twenty-eight-year-old boss as if he owned me. His brows were furrowed like he was some newly appointed emperor. "I bought everything you wanted. He nearly caught up!"
I exhaled sharply and pressed my fingers to my temple. He was right. I had been careless. Careless enough to risk everything I have fought for. But another half of me… the weaker half… just wanted Damon to see me, even for a heartbeat.
"Yes… I'm sorry, Lore." My voice was tired. Even he could hear the guilt dripping from my words. He dropped onto the sofa, exhausted himself.
"I'm going back to the Blackwell Residence," he muttered, rubbing his forehead like a stressed CEO rather than a teenager. "Make sure you stay here."
"Yes, boss," I murmured dryly, standing up to gather boxes of newly delivered dresses. I lifted one—white sand silk, smooth as sin. Damon would've stared at me like I was everything in the world. He always does.
