Vaughan stood in the doorway, his face pale. He looked at me like I was a ghost. His hand was still on the door handle, his knuckles white.
"Angel, what are you doing?" he asked. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "What's the meaning of this?"
I didn't move. I kept my face blank, my back straight. I held my purse like a shield. "I don't understand you, Mr. Vaughan. I’m here for my session. And I seriously don't understand what you mean by 'What are you doing?' Am I not in the right location?"
"What did you do?" he hissed, stepping closer. "What did you do, Angel?"
"What do you mean, what did I do?" I tilted my head, acting innocent. "I booked a three-day session with you. The payment went through this morning. Check your accounts. I could be wrong."
Vaughan’s jaw tightened. He pul
