⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆✼♡✽⋆∘∙⊱⋅•
A few days later, the universe decided to see how much persistence one spoiled heiress could muster before I had to begrudgingly respect her stamina for chasing after so uninterested.
Annalise Kuznetsova made her return like clockwork, this time on a Thursday morning that was annoyingly bright and crisp. She swept through the lobby wearing a cream silk dress that probably cost more than most people's annual rent, paired with another fur-trimmed accessory that made me wonder if she kept a secret fur farm in her closet.
No gift box today, just the sheer audacity of her presence, heels clicking like an announcement of war.
I was ready.
By the time she reached the executive floor, I had positioned myself like a polite bouncer outside Xavier's office. She barely acknowledged me as she attempted to breeze past.
