This, she concluded, was a situation that was going to take some maneuvering to work her way out of. Wisely, she knew she was too worn-out to deal with such complexities just now.

The shuttered bedroom was cool and dark and blessedly silent. The bed was soft as thistledown, the pillows perfect, accepting the aching weight of her head and easing the tension in the back of her neck.

The minute she closed her eyes, she saw herself standing in foot of one of the most beautiful designed planes ever to touch the sky. Before her stood the most arrogant man God had ever created. His covetous stare was not fixed upon the Vixen. Instead, his burning, black-lashed, dark eyes bored into her soul.

She opened her eyes, “It didn’t mean anything,” she said to the dazzling opulence that surrounded her.

Sora turned unto her side, cradled her throbbing skull between the cool spread of her fingers. She stared at the intricate, carved screens shading the windows from the harsh sun. What am I going to do? Why did that Omar have to have such a beautiful name? Leeteuk. She shook her head against the soft pillow in wonder. What to do, what to do?

The answer to her million questions eluded her. Thought was a merry-go-round. Her eyes yawned deepened and Sora dropped into dreamless sleep from which she did not awaken for hours.