Chapter Ninety-Three
She threw the sheets off her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, ignoring the dull throb in her skull. Like she was the one who should be ashamed?
Absolutely not.
She wouldn't let him kill her pride. Not after what he did. Not after he humiliated her in front of his men. If he thought she was going to slink away in the shadows, he didn't know her at all.
Pushing herself to her feet, she steadied against the nightstand, inhaling sharply. Her body protested, but her mind was clear— she was walking out of there on her own terms.
The door was slightly ajar as if daring her to follow him. She took a step forward, her bare feet silent against the floor. She would find him. She would face him. And she would make him regret thinking he had the upper hand.
But before she could take another step, the door swung open.
He stood there, arms crossed, that ever-present smirk curving his lips. "Going somewhere?"
