The villa was brightly lit, but the warmth of the lights did nothing to ease Nova’s frustration.

She sat rigid on the couch, her arms crossed, refusing to move.

Tristan, that idiot. He’d gone behind her back, thinking he could get away with it.

Nova clenched her fists, wishing she could strangle him. How could he pull something like this and expect her to just sit here?

Lionel stood nearby, watching her fume. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better ...