Freya's POV
The phone buzzed against my palm as Mack Ben's voice flowed through the speaker, smooth and warm like honey. That familiar broadcasting tone from our college days wrapped around me, cutting through the winter chill that had settled in my bones.
My grip tightened on the device, and my brain suddenly went haywire. Instead of the carefully planned explanation I'd rehearsed, the words that tumbled out were completely ridiculous.
"Um, have you had dinner yet?"
His rich laughter rippled through the connection. "I have. What about you?"
"Me?" The question jolted me back to reality. "Wait, shouldn't you already know whether I've eaten?"
"Should I?" Confusion laced his tone. "Why would I know that?"
The realization hit me like a slap. Young Master Dean hadn't called him at all.
I'd been completely played.
"Oh God." I pressed my free hand against my forehead, groaning in mortification. "I walked straight into Young Master Dean's trap like an idiot."
