Chapter 13 I Hate Him

• Armani descended the stairs with slow, measured steps, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His skin still glistened slightly from his shower, the dim light from the chandelier casting subtle shades over his toned physique, the magnificence of his ripped body on display. The faint scent of his expensive cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the night's warmth. He felt good. He looked entirely at ease, his lips curling into a smug smirk as he reached the bottom step.
• As he stepped into the living room, he spotted Valerie sitting on the couch, her leg propped up on the coffee table. A first aid kit lay open beside her, and she was carefully dabbing at her foot with a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. She winced slightly as the liquid made contact with the wound, but her face remained mostly impassive, her brows knitted in silent concentration.
• Armani folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the stair railing, watching her with an amused expression. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice deep and laced with mild curiosity.