I let out a slow breath.
Thank. Fucking. God.
I swing myself over the windowsill and land lightly on the floor. Bright pink. Every inch of it. The walls, the carpet, even the lights—like someone had dipped the entire room in bubblegum and glitter. Fairy lights hang lazily around the double bed on the right.
On the left, a mirrored wardrobe glares back at me, reflecting the room's madness, and beside it, a desk buried under an avalanche of photographs. Pictures of Quinn, smiling and laughing, some posed, some clearly candid. And then… more intimate pictures.
Oh. My. God. She's obsessed. Like, full-blown shrine-level obsessed.
I take a cautious step forward, scanning again, and realise—I didn't even ask which book I need to steal.
Perfect. Why is this my life right now?
My phone vibrates violently in my pocket. I jump, nearly knocking the chair over at the desk, and fumble it out. Elijah's name flashes across the screen.
Shit. I’m so screwed.
I can't answer if someone is downstairs. And they really need to teach their daughter a lesson in locked windows. And the pictures I just saw? Boundary issues on a global scale.
The call stops, and of course, it rings again. I bite my lip and answer, whispering, “Hello?” My eyes scan the room, searching for books, but there's nothing.
“Where are you?” Elijah's voice is sharp, just the slightest irritation threading through it.
I scratch the back of my head and tiptoe over to her drawers, trying not to knock anything over. “I’m… at Quinns.”
Where the hell do you hide a smutty book?
“I’m stuck here with Rose, so I need you here in five minutes.”
“I’m working on it.” I move towards the fluffy bed.
“What are you even doing?”
Yeah… I can't tell him the truth. He’d probably spank me for it. Not that I’m completely opposed to the idea.
“Erm… nothing illegal,” I blurt, slapping my hand over my mouth the second the words leave me.
Smooth Willow.
“Willow,” he warns, that deep, velvet voice I can't seem to resist.
I grab the pillows and yank them aside—and there it is: a black and silver book staring back at me, etched with cobwebs and spiders, as if it belonged in a horror film. I don’t hesitate. I snatch it up. At this point, I couldn't care less if it's the wrong one; I just need to get out.
“You got the book.”
Quinn's voice startles me. I whirl around and nearly inhale my own tongue. She's standing inside the room, the door hangingopen behind her. I stare at her, mouth open and closing, lungs scrambling for air—right as Elijah calls my name again through the phone.
Quinn waves her fingers in front of my face and calmly lifts the book from my hands.
“What—how—” the words jam in my throat.
How is she even here without climbing through the window?
“Willow?” Elijah presses, impatience creeping in.
I end the call without warning. I’ll deal with the delicious consequences later. Right now, irritation tightens hot and sharp in my chest as I round in on her.
“How the hell did you get up here?”
