My mind immediately spiraled into the worst-case scenario. Somehow, María José had told someone. Word had spread. Now the entire household knew what I had done, and I was officially a pervert, a blood-drinking, mate-biting lunatic…
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hugo groaned. "They're just blushing because you're hot. Calm down."
I scratched my nape in realization.
…Oh.
I shot a glance at a passing maid, who immediately ducked her head as a shy smile crept onto her face.
Right.
They didn't know.
They were just being weird.
Still, the guilt eating at my insides didn't release me.
I kept moving, ignoring the looks, ignoring the way my own thoughts screamed at me.
By the time I reached the dining room, I was already exhausted. Not physically… emotionally. To say I'd have to endure loads of emotional damage for one breakfast added to my paranoia.
