ette

tartup struggles. He paced the small living room, hi

atically. "Just endless, endless worry. The market is brutal. Investors are ruthless. I'm

ancing at me

my face caref

shirt and worn jeans from ye

man under such immense "pressure." There were no ragged cuticles, no s

ands of leisure

oice hoarse from the dry, hot air.

the room tilting. My sk

y annoyed for a split second before smoot

felt distant, alien. "I know, I know. It's tough. But we're almost there. Just a little lo

t. My shirt was damp, clinging uncomfortably to my back and be

asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Just a

icker of irrita

running. My hopes rose. Maybe, just mayb

ing a steaming mu

heated skin. "Warm water. Much better for you, sweetie. Cold water can shock your syste

ng it with even more heat. The thought of d

lightly. "Thinking only of your comfort when we're facing such ha

weak hand. The hot liquid s

a disappr

patted my shoulder, a quick, dismissive gesture. "Big interview toda

walked towar

, my fingers cur

ost. Kandy's apartment. That was where he was really going. And thanks to Kandy's public Instagram, I knew exactly which luxur