Naya stepped out of the bathroom, releasing a long, weary breath.
"I need to get a grip… I can't stop thinking about him," she muttered in frustration, running both hands through her hair.
Anyone who saw her like that might've assumed she'd lost her mind.
But Naya didn't care.
What truly unsettled her was how quickly she'd developed feelings for Caleb.
She wasn't the type to get attached easily. Never had been.
She couldn't understand how he'd done it. Was it because he'd appeared when she was at her lowest?
"No… it can't be," she told herself, shaking her head.
She had met plenty of men during that same period—wealthy, powerful, charming.
But none of them had the effect Caleb had on her.
None of them made her crave their presence the way he did.
She remembered the kiss back in the VIP box—how fiercely he'd claimed her mouth, how his tongue danced with hers.
It was a short moment, but to her it felt as though she had lived a decade.
