*Lucas*
A pothole almost unseated me as my chauffeur, Ian, navigated us back toward my mansion on a hill from our stop at the post office.
“Ian, a little slower, please?” I said with a wince, pretty sure that last one was going to bruise my ass.
Not that it would be the only bruise on my body. I reached up and touched my cheek once more.
Sasha Fucking Wentley.
She packed a lot more of a punch now than I remembered her having as a kid, but she was still as feisty as ever.
A smile tugged at my lips, but I quickly covered it with a cough as Ian peered at me in the rearview mirror.
Mirrors were going to be the death of me.
