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... tion in one word, it would be infuriating.

The more I tried to escape, the more Ace became romantic.

I swear, it was like every failed attempt just made him more patient, more attentive, more charming—which only made me hate him more.

And he knew it.

The bastard enjoyed it.

It was my third day here when I realized that my bedroom had a balcony.

A tall one.

With no stairs.

But still—better than nothing.

I had spent hours mapp ...

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“Is that any way to treat the person who saved you thrice in one night, tigress?”

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