THE BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET, CHASING AFTER ME
James
The scent of soap still clung to my skin, a clean, fresh counterpoint to the lingering warmth of the shower. I descended the stairs, expecting the usual quiet of a late afternoon, but the living room held a tableau that stopped me cold. Zelda.
She was there, bathed in the soft, fading light that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Bent slightly, almost reverently, she arranged roses in a white porcelain vase. A simple lilac dress, loose and comfortable, draped over her, and strands of her long hair, the colour of spun moonlight, brushed against her cheek.
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