How To Be A Mistress
Julian hissed, his forehead resting against mine for a split second.
“Huli na ang lahat, Julian,” I said, pushing him back. “I’m already broken. You’re the one who brought me here, remember?”
Pumasok kami sa Diamond Lounge. Prince Azrael was standing by the window, a glass of blue wine in his hand. He was younger than I expected, with olive skin and eyes that looked like they had seen too many wars and too many women.
“Ah, the legendary Ivy Heights hospitality,” Azrael smiled, his voice deep and smooth. “Madame Viveca was right. The emerald of Zandoria looks better on a beautiful woman than on a velvet cushion.”
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