I yanked the scarf tighter around my neck, hoping it was enough to hide the hickeys Elliot had left behind. The bruises were still tender, and just brushing fabric over them made me wince. I bit down on the pain. I didn’t have time to fall apart. Not today.
I rushed up the long path to Gareth’s house, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with my dream and everything to do with the mess reality kept shoving in my face. The guilt, the shame, the sting of Elliot’s words still clung to me like smoke.
“You thought rejecting me would end it?” he’d said last night, his voice low and cruel. “You’re tied to me, Jasmine. Every time he touches you, he’ll know you were mine first.”
Now I was here, on Gareth’s porch, forcing myself to push past it. ‘Focus.’
The butler spotted me the second I stepped through the front doors.
“Miss Jasmine,” he said briskly, walking over with a thick envelope. “You're late.”
“I know. I'm sorry—”
