To my horror, Cecily all but runs to the American’s side, grabs his hand in hers as if it’s an everyday occurrence, and meets my gaze carefully, shyly, and then she strokes the side of her nose. Fuck me. No. I’ll pretend I didn’t see her being embarrassed for simply being in his company. And why the bloody hell is the fucking bastard looking at her with those heated eyes as if he will devour her? I’ll kill him first. That’s it. The solution for this situation can only be murder.
