Viona's POV
Vivian Island.
My breath snagged on the name flashing on Rafael's phone. Why was she calling him?
But that should have been the least of my worries.
Biting back the stinging ache burning through my worn-out body, I crept into Rafael's walk-in closet.
I grabbed the brown suit jacket hanging on the clothes valet, it was the closest thing within reach.
The shower water stopped.
In a jolt of panic, I threw on the jacket and stormed out of his bedroom.
I didn't care if anyone saw me leaving his room like that.
My feet rushed down the hall to the guest room I was using.
I slipped inside, closed the door, locked it, and wished I could teleport into a world where no one knew me.
I fucked up.
As my nerves steadied, the soreness sharpened back. I limped to the bathroom.
I shrugged off the suit jacket and stared at my ruined reflection.
Sunken eyes. Sickly pallor. Everything about me looked as messed up as the memories in my head, and I remembered all of it. Why? How?
