Meanwhile, Gianna's jaw tightened the moment Zane stepped fully into the room.
Tightened even further when he sat on the same sofa as she, instead of taking the lone one, closest to the door.
His cologne reached her before his presence fully settled—a familiar, maddening scent that used to live on her skin, in her sheets, in the quiet spaces between heartbeats.
It brushed past her nose like an unwelcome memory, and her chest tightened before she could stop it. So, he had chosen to don off the mask instead of returning to the country?
Irritation flared sharp, immediate. However, she bore down on it, schooling her face into practiced indifference, biting back the instinctive urge to demand what he really was doing here.
There is just no need!
So much for believing he had gone home. So much for hoping he would stay gone. Instead, he had returned looking nothing like the man she had last seen.
