Chapter 61

Kent storms into the dining room, where the table is set for four. He sits down hard in his chair at the head of the table, waving at the place settings on either side of him.

“Remove these,” he says to the waitstaff, biting off the words in his frustration. “Have Daniel’s and Fay’s plates sent up to Fay’s room, they’ll take their supper there.”

The waitstaff give each other worried looks but silently do as they’re told. The chef comes out next, looking around the room.

“Sir?” He asks, his French accent heavy in the word. “Will you be dining alone?”

“Apparently,” Kent says, angry that Fiona isn’t here either. “Please bring it out.”

The chef nods, impassive, and heads back into the kitchen. A few moments later he appears again with Kent’s first course – salmon tartare with a small side salad and a freshly–sliced French

baguette.

Kent ignores the fish and reaches directly for the bread, slathering

it with butter as he sits back in his chair and thinks.

Thinks, inevitably, about her.

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her tonight, sitting there in her bed, crying as if her heart would break.

on the wall –

just kept crying-

bread, angry with himself for not being able to control himself. For wanting, even now,

stairs and so something–anything–to make

just asserted upstairs. Kicking him out and keeping Fay all

past few weeks. Tried

his plans, tried to ignore her when she walks by, the light lily scent

the air-

wide–eyed expressions of her face, when she’s

happy, sad, angry-

somewhere deep in her soul – he loves to prod her, to push her,

felt, those few times when he lost his

him in the basement, for instance,

up the stairs, pinned her against the hall of

Chapter 61

in her, then-

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chest. – god, he had wanted to turn her around right there, press her up against the wall, press the length of himself up against her ass as he slipped his hand beneath her shirt, taught her a lesson about what

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