Freya's POV
Mack gestured toward the corner of the terrace with a subtle movement of his hand. "Come on, let's find somewhere quieter to talk."
I hesitated, my lips parting slightly before I managed to ask, "Shouldn't you be with your other guests?"
His response came with that familiar hint of charm. "You are my guest too."
Heat crept up my neck as we made our way to the second-floor terrace. The mountain air felt crisp against my skin, carrying the scent of wildflowers and pine. My question burned in my throat, demanding answers.
"Mr. Ben, I need to—"
"Freya, there's something—"
We both stopped mid-sentence, turning to face each other in the same instant. Our eyes locked, and despite the tension between us, we couldn't help but smile at the awkward timing.
Mack raised his palm in a gentle gesture. "Please, you first."
