How To Be A Mistress
Passing by Julian, I caught the scent of his cologne—sandalwood and rain—but I didn’t flinch.
“Goodnight, Julian,” I whispered as we passed him.
Sa balcony, ang hangin ay malamig, pero ang kamay ni Azrael sa balikat ko ay tila nagbabaga.
“You’re doing that to make him angry, aren’t you?” Azrael asked, a playful glint in his eyes. “The way you touched me… it wasn’t for me. It was a performance for the man in the tuxedo.”
“Does it matter, Your Highness?” I asked, looking out at the dark forest of Ivy Heights. “As long as you’re entertained.”
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