Violet CLAW
one of the men retorted, silencing the gossips.
Suddenly, the resort manager, Mason, scrambled to the front. “Is everyone here? We have a high-ranking guest joining the run. Do not keep him waiting.”
Ivy and Noah looked up, curious. Then, a silver-gray Maserati crunched over the gravel. My heart sank. I knew that car. I drove it.
Ivy’s scent changed—fear and recognition spiked the air. Cole stepped out, dressed in white linen, looking more like a god of the forest than a businessman.
Bab Populer