Chapter twelve — Breakfast with rivals

Keya:

I didn’t sleep.

Not a wink.

And it’s not because of Camila Thorne and her ridiculously perfect face or the fact that she’s been here for seven days straight, floating around the mansion like she owns it. It’s not because of DiCaprio’s mother either, who seems to think we’re already married.

It’s because of him.

His arms.

The hug.

The silence.

And the part I hate the most?

I didn’t want him to let go.

Lina knocks once, then barges in like usual. She’s holding two mugs — one for her, and one for me.

“I made the strong stuff,” she says. “Looks...