Freya's POV
"No wonder you can whip up porridge and hangover remedies like a professional chef." The memory of that drunken night flashed through my mind, when he had rolled up his sleeves and cooked for me with such natural ease.
"That hardly counts as cooking," Mack Ben replied with a dismissive shrug.
After our lengthy conversation, the knots of confusion that had been tangling my thoughts for weeks finally began to unravel. A wave of lightness washed over me, lifting the weight that had been pressing on my chest.
Mack must have noticed the shift in my demeanor because his lips curved into that knowing smile. "So you no longer believe my family has been plotting to harvest your organs for some sinister purpose?"
Heat flooded my cheeks at his playful accusation. "I apologize for being so suspicious and paranoid."
