Xanthe woke up later in Lorenzo's bedroom on a huge king-size bed. She was drained of every iota of vitality in her and her head felt like a mini bulldozer was demolishing it from the inside out.
As she tried to sit up, the room swirled before her eyes, causing her to sink back into the bed, breathing unevenly.
A mumbled curse left her lips as she shut her eyes. She couldn't blame anyone for this torture but herself. None of this would be happening to her if only she'd truly walked away.
Why was she so meddlesome?
Earlier, when Xanthe left his house, she had been furious, so furious she'd started picturing what she would wear to his funeral. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, her feet had taken her toward his garage instead of the street to hail a cab home.
Before Lorenzo came to the garage, she'd already cast a supernatural radar on each of his cars and just as he drove off, she followed at a distance in a cab.
