Eliana Bennett burst out of Rafael Vexley's lavish bedroom, her bare feet slapping against the icy floors of his sprawling mansion. The shock of cold travelled up her legs, jolting her awake in a way nothing else could. She clutched desperately at the oversized white shirt hanging off her shoulders—his shirt. It barely covered her thighs, the crisp fabric sticking to her skin, damp with sweat and lingering fear.
Her hair was a wild mess of curls, tumbling around her face like a storm she couldn't tame, each strand a reminder of how utterly out of place she was in this palace of perfection. The pristine hallway, lined with towering windows that welcomed the shy morning sun, only made her feel smaller. She prayed under her breath that everyone in the house was still asleep. The idea of being seen like this—hair tangled, eyes swollen with unshed tears, drowning in the scent of him—made her stomach twist with humiliation.
