Imogene Scott

Two weeks later…

Damien’s voice is calm as he repeats himself. “You do know you don’t have to work, right?”

I pretend not to hear him as I pull the zipper of my dress up, looking at my reflection in the bedroom mirror. I adjust the hem and smooth my hands down the fabric, avoiding his eyes.

But I can feel his gaze burning into my back. He’s been like this for two weeks now.

“Imogene,” he says again.

I take a deep breath, letting my hands fall to my sides. Turning around, I meet his eyes. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed. I knew this...