OLIVIA
My stomach growled, the sound loud in the quiet room. Lying on my back, I pressed a hand against my abdomen with a sigh.
I hadn’t eaten all day, not because I didn’t want to, but because everything had spun so far out of my control. And the thought of going downstairs and pretending nothing had happened after the way I lashed out at Dante felt impossible.
A knock at the door cut through my thoughts. I froze, my head snapping toward the sound.
Dragging myself up from the bed, I ran a hand through my tangled hair and tucked a few strands behind my ear as I crossed the room.
When I opened the door, a middle-aged woman stood there smiling at me. She was the housekeeper, I guessed.
“Mr. Devereux would like to know if you’ll be joining him for dinner.” The woman’s hands fell neatly
