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I hear his heavy footsteps, then feel his muscular body behind me.

His cock, harder than ever, digs into my back. A ragged sigh throttles out of him. He slides my hair to the side, then presses the softest kiss on the tender point where my neck meets my shoulder.

“Such a good girl. Bewitching. Made for me.”

Then he disappears, leaving me half-naked in the room.

Five minutes later, my phone pings with an incoming message.

Rex

We’re not done. Not by a long shot.

Chapter Thirty-One

Rex disappeared after themasquerade a week ago. Lana told me there was a brand ambassador emergency in their London office, which he had to personally handle. Something about a high maintenance model who was threatening to pull out of an upcoming hotel launch.

But naturally, her people told Fleur she’d reconsider if she got a meeting with Rex.

Apparently, they dated before—one of the leggy models who’d jet set with him around the globe last year, who clearly had her eyes set on something else…an Anderson last name.

It was a gut punch when Lana told me the news over breakfast, and I feigned a smile and excused myself.

It was a good reminder. The universe’s final warning, letting me know who I’m dealing with.

A playboy. Womanizer. Someone who never settles down.

I never answered his text message from that night, and he didn’t contact me again either.

What did you expect? The man is half-asshole, half-charmer, and a whole heartbreaker.

Before Rex, I didn’t know how much I was missing in my life. How I was marching through my days, eating saltine crackers, drinking water with no ice, not knowing there were other flavors out there, not knowing my taste buds were severely deprived.

But now I know.

And the man who’s introduced me to the spices and flavors of life is now in another country, courting another woman, who, no doubt, wants a ride on the party prince, to get another hit of the Rex-a-Million experience.

Dammit, Olivia, why didn’t you start off with chicken noodle soup or something? Why did you have to jump headfirst into buffalo hot wings doused in Carolina Reapers pepper sauce?

And to top it off, I’ve violated my Hippocratic Oath and the American Medical Association’s code of ethics by being involved with Rex. There’s no use denying it any longer.

“Oh Olive, I didn’t know you had it in you. Can’t believe you let him finger fuck you in public.”Mia’s voice snickers in my mind.

I know it’s not her. It’s grief along with this elusive twin-sense creating a figment of her in my mind. And perhaps, her voice is stronger because we’re finally in Valencia at the tail end of the Las Fallas Festival.

The whole purpose of my trip.

“If you’re going to talk to me, tell me why. Why did you leave me? What regrets did you have?” I murmur to my reflection in the bathroom mirror before heading offshore.

It’s the last day of the annual festival, whenninots, sculptures made of wood and paper mâché, are burned to the ground at night.

For the past two days, I wandered aimlessly around Valencia, watching localfallerosandfallerasdressed in colorful traditional costumes, dancing and parading on the streets. I watched theMascletàbeing set off in the town hall square at two p.m., the exciting display of colorful fireworks and firecrackers exhilarating and memorable.

The energy was thrilling, the air vibrating with drumbeats and laughter, with chaos bleeding into joy the closer we approached the last day of the festival.

During this time, Mia’s presence lingered by my side—when I tasted the freshness of the seafood paella, or chugged down a citrusy champagne cocktail, theAgua de Valencia. She’d be with me when I tookphotos of the celebrations, awestruck at the toweringninotsdepicting everything from fairytale characters to caricatures of famous people.

Everything was bold, indulgent, exciting—all words I’d use to describe Mia.