Anastasia's eyes snapped open. The first thing she noticed was that she was alone in the massive bed. The space beside her was cold, the sheets smoothed over. Damian was gone. Good!
Her fever had finally broken, but as she tried to sit up, a deep ache rippled through her exhausted muscles. She glanced toward the windows, and her heart instantly dropped into her stomach.
Bright, glaring morning sunlight was pouring into the room.
Oh no. No, no, no!
Panic seized her. It was already late morning. Her early shift at the café was already halfway over. She had missed it completely.
"I'm late," she panicked, throwing the heavy blankets off her legs. "I'm so late."
She scrambled out of bed, her eyes frantically scanning the luxury bedroom for her belongings. Instead, her gaze landed on the coffee table in the corner. Resting there was a neatly folded pile of fresh clothes.
Did he prepare this for me? She thought, frowning.
