Viona's POV
Sometimes I hated myself for believing my own bad feelings so religiously. I didn't dislike her the first time we met in the restroom, but why did the help we were hoping for right now have to come from her? A woman like her.
The question of whether they knew each other felt unnecessary. From the moment she stood on the podium, she never once tore her gaze away from Rafael. And my eyes kept darting back and forth between them, while Rafael just chuckled and smirked. Like the chemistry between those two was telling me there was a deeper bond there.
And fuck, my heartbeat slammed against my stomach with unease.
The number on the screen under Rafael's photo shifted from 42 to 48 right after that woman said she chose him.
No. It's the company, not her choosing. My intrusive thoughts kept trying to justify what she had just done. And I hated to admit how hard it was to deny what I was seeing.
