Amira's POV
The soft murmur of the fountain in the villa's garden did little to soothe my irritation as I paced back and forth on the cobblestone path. My heels clicked sharply against the stone, matching the erratic rhythm of my thoughts. Summer sat on the garden bench, her arms crossed, her expression just as sour as mine.
"This is ridiculous!" I snapped, finally stopping to glare at her. "You should've seen the way Dylan spoke to my father, Summer. Like he had the right to disrespect him in front of everyone!"
Summer raised an eyebrow, brushing a stray curl from her face. "What did he say exactly?"
I scoffed, throwing up my hands. "Oh, nothing too subtle—he outright accused my father of being a hypocrite. In public! And then he had the audacity to claim that the alliance my father proposed was self-serving and manipulative."
"Was it?" Summer asked bluntly, earning a sharp glare from me.
