Trust

Rose burst into laughter, loud and carefree. She couldn't help it; the situation was absurd.

"Did I?" she said between giggles, her voice bubbling with mischief. "I can't really remember. I mean… who wouldn't pick luxury over—over—" She giggled again, pretending to fumble her words, "—who wouldn't pick riches over the poor?"

She yawned dramatically, stretching as if the conversation no longer interested her. It was clear she wasn't afraid to turn away from any tension in the room. "Goodnight, Mr. Rylan. Sleep tight," she mumbled, pulling the duvet over herself, her actions a silent dismissal, as if to say, I've had enough.

But before she could settle in, a slight movement caught her off guard.

Her eyes snapped open just as Rylan shifted closer, his voice firm, cutting through the silence like a blade.

"Not so fast. We're going back to your room."

Rose's eyes widened, disbelief flooding her expression. "What?"