Chapter 29

Amelia's POV

"How the fuck did you get into–" I squint my eyes in disbelief "–you know what, don't answer that question, I know how, but you know this is creepy as hell, right?"

Miguel Angel is sitting on my bed, resting on his elbows and looking at me from beneath his lashes. He's wearing a white vest and black slacks and his hair is falling over his shoulders.

"You're cussing a whole lot these days? Any particular reason why?"

Picking the rose from the ground, I throw it on the couch along with my bag and fold my arms, trying to give off a semblance of nonchalance when I am anything but.

The confrontation is finally happening and from the glint in his eye and the fact that he breached my safe space, I know that running away is impossible.

I can lock myself in the bathroom.

"Don't even think about it, Amelia."

I look away from the bathroom door guiltily "Do you know you only call me that when you're pissed?"

He rises from the bed and I walk to the other side of the room, puttin