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I down the whiskey and take a few breaths. No. Nothing. I need one more. I down two more glasses before I rush upstairs.

Soft music floats through the corridor as I approach Saar’s room.

I knock. I may be on a mission to strangle her, but I’m not a savage.

No answer. She’s in there, listening to some esoteric music. Is she ignoring me deliberately?

I knock again, this time with more urgency.

Nothing.

“Saar,” I billow.

Silence. Bar the music.

“I’m coming in.” I push the door open. “Saar.” I blink a few times, adjusting to the darkness.

The blinds are drawn, the only light coming from a few flickering candles. The air is infused with vomit-inducing incense.

“What?” Saar pulls up her eye mask. “I was trying to sleep.”

“At three in the afternoon?” I turn the switch on, and the light floods the room.

Saar groans and swings her legs to sit at the edge of her bed, rubbing her eyes. “I’m still adjusting.”

“You can’t have jetlag anymore.”

And why am I even arguing this point? She can do whatever she wants. Aside from making my house look like a junkyard.

“What do you want?” She sighs.

She looks exhausted. Shadows of fatigue frame her eyes. She is pale, and is she thinner than she was?

My cock immediately remembers the feel of her against me when I crowded her in my office. I made that move out of exasperation. She really seems to push all my buttons. Regardless of my original—not very smart—intention, the power move ended up in an internal war between want and reason.

Thank God for Larissa’s interruption, and for my business trip. Putting the distance between us was essential.

“Livia tells me you didn’t eat much.” That’s none of your business, asshole. That’s not why you came here. Fuck, she doesn’t look good though.

“And you care why?” She throws the eye mask on the nightstand.

“You’re right, I don’t. What the fuck have you done downstairs?”

She gives me a feigned smile. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I made the place a little bit mine.”

I open my mouth, wanting to bark something, but that’s what she wants, isn’t it? To rile me up so she has a false sense of control over the situation. “I have nothing against redesigning. But it looks like a yard sale downstairs.”

Her eyes bulge out. “That was the look I went for. I’m glad you approve. Can I go back to trying to sleep now?”

“The magazine is coming in an hour.”

“What magazine?”

“I don’t remember every detail. They are coming to take engagement pictures.”

“That’s tomorrow.” She reaches for her phone and finally stops the church music. “Shit.”

“Yes, it’s today. The only thing you have to do is keep on top of the schedule.”