Oliver's POV
"Why do you care, Raymond? You said you only wanted one thing from me. Why come all this way if you're so busy?"
I paused, my back still to her.
"I did what I did out of sympathy, Aurora," I said coldly. "It wasn't special. I would've done the same for any woman who called me in that state. Don't flatter yourself."
The lie tasted like poison. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to turn around and tell her the truth, but I forced my feet to move toward the door. I had to get out. I had to become Oliver again.
I didn't even make it to the handle.
I felt her move—fast, despite her injury. Before I could react, her arms wrapped around my waist from behind. She pressed her cheek against the leather of my jacket, just like she had last night… when I was the King. The warmth of her body seeped through the layers of my clothes, and for a second, my heart skipped a beat.
"Let go, Aurora," I growled, though the command lacked its usual bite.
