Under His Temptation

I can't find my

*

pride when the identification tag hung sweetly around my neck. If I could stand at the top of the Empire States, maybe I would tell every corner of America that Elizabeth Khan, who

vel until my nose turned red. Even though I had rejected Emilia's invitation not to watch the touching romantic drama film, she whispere

aster for a girl who rarely wears high, thin heels like a collection of pasta tied with rubber. Honestly, on campus, I prefer to we

or, as if forcing themselves to fit in the iron box. Suddenly, I felt short

n

and the worst option was to use the emergency stairs. The div

da

though the morning ritual I can carry out is strong enough to grow Elizabeth's positive side. In the corner of my eye, I glanced around and saw a man in an expensive-looking gre

ilet! I feel like thro

oned the white shirt carefully and hoped it wouldn't get the slightest stain. I screamed, not wanting

, Miss...

but Goddess Fortuna tempted my patience until I tripped over my feet. OK, I'm embarrassed, annoyed, angry, afraid of

firm, along with the outstretched hand

with ocean blue irises looked guilty; in his left hand, he was still holding a coffee cu

is help is unnecessary if he's already ruined my new clothes. I don't know wh

. Ms. Khan," said the man, g

t full, like someone was trying to crush it from the inside. I

ation to clean up the remaining coffee and ensure my chest isn't blistered. If I had Em

it to the dry cleaners," offered the blue-eye

retorted, entering

ou douse him w

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