FLOWER OF LOVE
she protested, turning toward Anton.
“That’s enough.”
The voice was low—calm, but sharp enough to cut through the air.
A voice she knew too well.
Her head tilted, the room spinning slightly. Was she hallucinating?
“Beshie,” she whispered to Mariel, blinking hard. “I think I’m drunk. I’m seeing that infuriating man here.”
Mariel was staring behind her, her laughter gone. “You’re not drunk, Beshie.”
Flora Amor waved her hand dramatically. “Men are impossible! When I refused to let him kiss me, he got mad. But when I finally did, he said it meant nothing! What kind of logic is that?”
Hot Chapters