"What on earth do you really want from me, Shen? Could you please just spit it out?" Ava groaned. They were now inside Shen's luxurious car—leather seats, gold trimmings, and a chandelier that definitely should not be in a moving vehicle. It was, of course, driven by Shen's butler.
Avarielle Summers liked to think of herself as the most composed, most decent woman in the entire kingdom… until she saw Shen's butler.
Her jaw unhinged like a cartoon character as she stared. The man was tall, sharp-jawed, wearing white gloves, and looked like he was forged by angels with a coffee addiction.
Shen called him Sebby.
Why? She had no idea. Maybe "Sebastian the Soul-Snatching Greek God" didn't fit on the name tag.
Shen sighed dramatically, flicking his bangs like a tragic K-drama lead. "Avarielle, my darling. You're smart. So one word should be enough."
Ava didn't even blink. "Because I don't trust any of your words."
