Seraphina's Point Of View
The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled Rose's kitchen the next morning, but it didn't quite drown out the lingering scent of yesterday's chaos… a peculiar mixture of expensive cologne, fear, and upended lives.
I stood by the stove, flipping pancakes with mechanical precision while Rose hummed some upbeat tune behind me, moving with a suspicious amount of energy for someone who had endured both a kidnapping and a billionaire revelation in the last twenty-four hours.
"Pass me the spatula, Sera," Rose said, bumping her hip against mine. "You're burning that one. Your brain is clearly in the clouds, or maybe in a certain Italian penthouse?"
I handed it over with a roll of my eyes. "My brain is trying to calculate how many bodyguards currently stand between us and the nearest grocery store. It's a lot. I counted six on the way to the fridge."
