Chapter Eighty
Ahmet sat up with a low groan, pressing his fingers against his temples.
A dull, persistent throb pulsed behind his eyes: it was the kind that only came from a night spent overthinking and he did that a lot, thinking about the most infuriating woman he had ever known. She was innocent this time around. He reminded himself.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His phone sat on the nightstand, the screen dark, and waiting.
His fingers twitched. He should call her.
His jaw tightening, he reached for it but then hesitated.
He could already hear her sharp tone, and feel the weight of whatever insult she would throw his way. But still, he needed to call her. His grip on the phone tightened.
Damn it.
With a muttered curse, he threw the covers off and swung his legs over the bed. His ego had kept him silent all night. Maybe it was time to throw it out the damn window.
