I stepped aside to let her pass. As she walked by, she didn’t bother hiding the smug look on her face. She must have thought I hadn’t noticed, but I did.
Once inside, she casually placed the takeaway bag in her hand on the table.
“Oh, and there’s this,” she added nonchalantly. “Mr. Barnes didn’t eat much tonight. I brought him a midnight snack.”
She lingered on the word “do,” a barely noticeable smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling with an unmistakable challenge.
The brand on the takeaway bag caught my eye, and my heart sank—this was the French restaurant Killian had promised to take me to.
Anastacia didn’t leave much to the imagination. She was practically laying out the fact that they had spent the evening together—at the restaurant I was supposed to go to, in the car that was supposed to bring me, and now, she had even brought him a midnight snack.
If this had been before, I’m sure I would have lost control. I would have been furious, maybe even burst into tears, demanding to know what was going on, throwing the food at her and telling her to leave. I might have dragged Killian into the room and confronted him then and there.
But now, I simply felt numb.