Chapter 45 His Perfect Question

• The shrill blare of an alarm shattered the silence, jolting me awake. My eyes flew open, and confusion coursed through me as I realized I wasn’t in my flat. Panic tingled at the edges of my mind before my senses caught up. The luxurious room around me still carried its familiar lavender scent, soothing in its constancy. Yet, Rafayel was nowhere to be seen. His absence at this hour was unsettling.
• Just as I reached for my phone to check the time, the frosted glass door of the en-suite bathroom creaked open. I froze mid-motion, my breath catching in my throat. Rafayel emerged, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, droplets of water tracing paths down his chest—bare save for the towel slung low around his waist.
• Shit. My brain scrambled to process the scene. What the hell is going on?