Waking up to a cold hand was the last thing I wanted. The shock ripped through me so violently that I screamed as I bolted upright. The older woman staggered back, pressing a hand to her chest, clearly just as startled by my reaction.
What was wrong with these people? I couldn’t even sleep without someone watching me.
My grip slipped on the bed, and I fell backward, hitting the hard floor beneath me. I didn’t feel the pain—not immediately—but the sound of it drew the others running. Hands reached for me, lifting me up before I could protest. Once steady, I released a shaky breath and allowed myself to be guided to the vanity chair.
The chair was soft. Luxuriously so.
And yet, I felt anything but comfort.
I wanted this week to be over. No one listened to me. The men were rude, dismissi
