Violet
There was no other explanation.
The only reason he would buy me jeans and not a dress was to make sure I kept wearing his shirt.
How the hell did he even think that far ahead?
It was like every single move he made, whether intentional or not, always spun itself into some advantage for him. Maybe he didn’t mean to tear my dress last night, but the second it happened, he’d used it like a playing card in a game I didn’t know I was part of.
If I was right, and I was rarely wrong about people, okay, maybe I was wrong about Matthew, but I was right about this. This wasn’t the kind of man you messed with.
He was the kind who turned every situation in his favor without lifting a finger.
I tried, for the hundredth time, to read his expression, but his face was frustratingly calm.
H
