You want it I'll Get It

No one needed to tell her that Zylan was dead serious.

Naomi fell silent, her thoughts swirling as his intense expression softened, melting into something unreadable.

She couldn't tell if he was warning her about something… or warning her about himself. That thought made her chest tighten. She bit her lip, determined not to let her mind spiral.

Overthinking never led anywhere good. She knew better than to let her imagination create problems where none existed—or at least where she hoped none existed.

Her gaze darted around the room in search of a distraction. It landed on a wall-mounted calendar, the neat rows of days staring back at her as if mocking her restless thoughts. Before she could get lost in her musings, the maid returned, carrying a towel and a pair of shoes.