20. Guest

Anya

I make my way to the kitchen, my steps lighter than they’ve been in days. Despite the odd tension at last night’s dinner, I find myself strangely at ease this morning. The penthouse is silent, and for the first time since I got here, I feel like I can breathe.

I scoop coffee grounds into the machine, press the button, and the aroma fills the room. Last night’s dinner plays like a surreal montage in my head, punctuated by Bastien’s penetrating gaze and that unnerving yet electrifying moment on my knees beside him.

I can’t make sense of it, of him, of how he’s affecting me. A flutter of something—nervousness, excitement, or perhaps even fear—courses through me, leaving me unsettled.

The phrase plays over and over in my head as the coffee brews. There was something in his tone, an unspoken weight, that I can’t shake off. I’ve never been one to seek approval, but the warmth that spread through me at his words was as disconcerting as it was pleasurable.

My musings are interrupted by