Don't turn.
Don't give in so easily.
Alaric walked down the hallway, his heart pounding heavily. He was waiting for Nicolette to catch up with him and then yell or maybe argue.
He reduced his pace.
Maybe he was walking too fast?
But instead of hearing her behind him, he heard the door slam shut.
"Fucking hell," he cussed under his breath as he stopped.
Maybe he had gone too far.
God, he was furious that after such an intimate moment, she could just waltz out of the room.
He couldn't deny it—he was still a little sore, maybe a lot sore, from her rejection. And he just wanted her to know that without actually saying it.
He exhaled as he turned towards her room. The big dress was a joke, maybe one that had gone too far.
He was only trying to prove a point.
Alaric reached Nicolette's door and knocked. "We'll be late," he said, making his tone as uninterested as he could.
"Go on without me, Mr. Allens," she replied, her voice sharp.
That damn formality again.
