Claire

Claire watched as Axel walked out of the back door, and she waited a few seconds to turn toward Aunt Demetria, who poured herself a glass of wine and stood by Claire as she washed the dishes.

She lifted a light brow at her. "You look like you need one of these," she said, offering over her glass.

Claire pursed her lips. "I'm only eighteen. You're a bad influence."

She chuckled. "Seriously? You're the only eighteen-year-old I know that would turn down ...