Those words were downright humiliating.
Even though Amelia thought she had grown thick-skinned enough, hearing them from Simon still pierced through her defenses.
She forced herself to hold back the pang in her chest, straightened her back, and headed toward the door.
Simon, however, got there first and grabbed the door handle.
"I'll drive you," he said.
Amelia dodged him. "No need. I'll get a cab myself."
Simon let out a cold laugh. "Miss Clarke, as a mistress, you should know your place. Not even letting me know where you live?"
Her eyes remained cast down, unwilling to meet his gaze again.
She had sworn to herself she didn't love him anymore—so why did it still hurt like this?
"If you need me for anything, I'll come over, Mr. Johnson. So there's no reason fo
