DEMETRIA Anastasia strutted ahead of me toward the door, her heels clicking against the floor as she called out in a sing-song voice, “Coming!” When she swung the door open, Marion stood there, tall, sharp, breathtaking as always. Dressed in crisp all-white that somehow made casual look like power. He wore a half-button white linen shirt with a soft open collar, the fabric draping effortlessly over his chest, paired with tailored white trousers that hung perfectly over fresh white sneakers. A silver chain rested against his tan skin, glinting faintly under the hallway light, and his watch peeked from his wrist, understated, but expensive enough to speak volumes. He looked like summer wealth personified, relaxed confidence, quiet dominance, the kind of man who didn’t need to announce his presence. And in his hands, a bouquet of pure white roses, elegant, fragrant, and deliberate. Anastasia blinked. “Well, someone’s trying to make up for lost days.” Marion’s lips quirked in
Last Updated : 2025-11-16
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