“She used to work for me as my secretary,” he added smoothly. “Got married last year, had a child, and now she’s back.” Then, like he was doing me a favor, “She’s had some trouble with her vision too, so she understands what you’re dealing with. Until she recovers, she’ll help you get around.”
My vision. The word scraped raw.
Seraphine stepped closer. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Whitmore. I’ll be managing everything from now on. You… and the baby.”
The way she lingered on that last word wasn’t subtle. It was a challenge.
I inclined my head. “Alright. Thank you.”
Nothing for her to latch onto. That clearly irritated her, because seconds later I heard the damp sound of a kiss. Then another. The soft rustle of clothes shifting.
The couch creaked beneath them.
My stomach rolled. I remembered how Julian used to pull me down onto that same sofa, how the fabric would rub my skin raw. One night we’d even stayed up sewing a cover together, laughing about how ugly it was.
I’d thought that meant something.