MELISAA.
The familiar figure that stepped into the room was no other than Davian.
For a split second, everything inside me froze.
“Oh my, Cypril,” Davian drawled, his voice smooth and amused as his gaze flicked between us. A sly smirk curved his lips, slow and deliberate. “Did I interrupt something?”
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.
“Cousin,” he continued lightly, taking a step forward, one that contradicted the false politeness in his tone. “You seem rather… urgent. Should I excuse you?”
Cypril stiffened beside me. His hand dropped from my body immediately, as though my presence had suddenly become inconvenient. Irritation flashed across his face as he turned fully to Davian. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then calmly adjusted the buttons of his shirt, maski
