The Underworld Trials of Luna
he asks, dry, pointing to the shorts in question, giving me a wicked grin.
I snarl and step in front of the wardrobe blocking his sight. “Away, pest.” I let my canines extend in mock threat.
“You need me, Juniper,” Anton says, straightening up and grinning, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking…far too good, with that dashing grin, in that well-cut suit. “I’m your stylist. You’re a fashion zero without me.”
I just roll my eyes and flick a hand at him, turning away and rifling through my clothes, deciding what to wear.