The tranquil atmosphere of the spa, with its soothing music and lavender-scented air, did little to calm the storm brewing in my mind.
I reclined on a plush chaise, my robe loosely tied around me, while a soft-spoken attendant placed cucumber slices over my eyes.
Her touch was delicate, her words polite—but I barely registered any of it. My thoughts were consumed by Adrian.
And why wouldn't they be, especially considering the fact that he was the last person I was expecting to see.
What was he doing here?
The image of his sharp, knowing eyes in the hallway replayed in my mind, each glance, each word of our brief encounter now dissected with obsessive precision.
"Could it really be a coincidence?" I thought bitterly.
The world was vast, yet somehow Adrian Santoro, of all people, had ended up in the same luxury hotel as me.
No, it's not a coincidence. It can't be.
