Sophia’s P.O.V

I stood there, arms folded tight across my chest, jaw locked so hard it felt like it might snap from the pressure. Tristan’s voice, smooth and far too pleased with himself, echoed in my ears like nails on glass.

“Gabriella, you only have to point at the art, I’ll make sure I get it for you…no matter the price,” he said, and I swear I heard angels singing in his tone. Gabriella turned to him, lips curling into that signature smirk of hers, the one that ...