Eliza's pov
I barely had time to process what had just happened. The memory of Cavin's warmth still lingered on my skin, leaving my heart racing as I stepped out of my room, trying to pull myself together. Everything felt like too much—Cavin, Nikolai, and the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside me.
"Eliza?" My father's voice called from downstairs, making my stomach knot with dread. I paused midway, seeing him standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "There is a lot of noise upstairs? What are you doing upstair?" he asked looking at me.
"I was just… resting," I replied, trying to sound casual. The weight of my earlier encounter with Cavin pressed on me, but I couldn't let Dad notice.
"Resting?" David echoed, suspicion lacing his words. "You sure you're okay? You look a bit flushed."
Heat crept up my neck. "I'm fine, Dad. Really."