69.2

“Is this the double-decker boat, right?” I said.

Griff placed a hand on the small of my back and walked us into what looked like the corridor of a space age hotel. “The Thames Shuttle is the most luxurious way to travel, and I want to return to the Isle of Wight in style.”

Our room was also white, but the half furthest away from the door was made of glass. A double bed took up that space, which had a full view of our surroundings.

I glanced out of the window across the Thames at a bridge I was sure hadn’t existed when I was alive. When I turned to Griff to see if he had noticed, he was looking at me with a hunger in his eyes that made me feel like prey.

My pulse kicked up a notch and warmth surged to my core. All notions of being an alpha female disappeared on butterfly wings, along with what was left of my confidence. I hadn’t spoken of that night in decades—there had been no need when my relationship with Griff had played on an endless loop.

“This is a really nice room.” I tried to