Liliana’s Point of View
The blare of my alarm yanked me from sleep. One glance and panic punched me awake—late!
I shot out of bed, sprinted to the bathroom, and took the fastest shower of my life.
Blame the contract. I’d been writing until past midnight, then crashed at twelve‑something. Now—disaster.
While tugging on clothes I flashed back to Asher’s teasing question from yesterday:
“What if I make you fall for me?”
I’d stared at him, struck silent, my heart skipping like a scratched record.
“Just kidding,” he’d said, chuckling. “As you wish, Mrs. Strategist.”
Yet my chest had stung in a way I couldn’t name.
Focus! I had to leave—
My phone rang. Fern lit the screen. I answered, breathless. “Hello?”
“Good morning, wife. Sleep well?”
“Not really—I’m late!”
“For what?” he asked, amused. “You have another job besides my company?”
“Boss, what are you talking about?”
“It’s Saturday. Where are you rushing off to?”
“Saturday—what?” I checked the date—Saturday indeed. My adrena
