Midnight.
Eva Nightingale was drowsily asleep when she sensed a pair of cold eyes watching her.
It was chilling, and she immediately opened her eyes.
The man beside her had dark eyes fixed on her just like that.
A fragrance of red wine and magnetic hormones emanated from his thin lips.
Wine, the taste of wine.
Eva was taken aback for a moment, staring at the man: "Crown Prince... why are you here, am I dreaming?"
Wasn't she supposed to be in Eastern Europe? She hadn't seen him for such a long time.
How could he suddenly appear in her room, pressing down on her? Did he forget about their cold war! Afraid he'd crush her stomach, she pushed against him, attempting to make him get up and leave: "Don't look at me like that—"
"Let go of me..."
"Sorry..." He drank too much and couldn't resist missing her, so he sneaked into her bedroom again. Sensing her resistance, he apologized, then focused his deep, narrow eyes on her face, somewhat fervently.
