Scarlett
The sun hadn’t even fully kissed the sky when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I groaned, cracked one eye open, and blindly reached for it. The screen glared at me like a smug little demon.
Faye.
Her again.
I opened the message with the same caution I’d use opening a viper’s mouth—as expected, she delivered her poison. A photo.
In that photo, she was sprawled and naked across Alexander’s chest, his arm possessively draped over her like she was some precious artifact. Her hair was tousled, her lips were swollen with the afterglow smirk she wore so well, and there were even red marks and bites all over her neck, proudly showing it off to the camera.
The message?
“He still sleeps like a baby when he’s with me. Must be love.”
I stared at the image for four
