As I climbed Split’s wrought iron staircase, I could almost hear my mind humming.
I paused on the last step and looked down at myself. I’d chosen to wear my skinny black jeans and a soft gray cardigan sweater over a white T-shirt. That sweater was snug in all the right places, and my black jeans showcased my best attribute: my bubble ass.
I blew a breath into my cupped fingers. Spearmint.
I ran a nervous hand through my thick red hair. Not much I could do about that. But somehow, I had a feeling that Nick liked the color of my hair. He was often gazing at it.
I took a shallow breath and knocked. Immediately, the most gruesome, hellish sound spilled through the thick wooden door and I shrunk back from it, as though the very sound could tear my throat open.
“Quiet!” Nick’s tone was firm
