The kitchen was dimly lit, with soft amber light spilling from the overhead fixture. The hum of voices from the drawing room was muffled by the walls, but it did little to quiet the tempest brewing between Sol and Neoma. She had just turned away from the sink when he moved, swift and determined, cornering her against the cold tiled wall.
"Sol?" she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
His hands pressed against the wall on either side of her, trapping her in place. His eyes bored into hers, the sharp contrast of apprehension and crossness carving lines of tension across his face. His breaths were shallow, coming in measured bursts as though trying to contain a storm that threatened to break free.
“What did she tell you?” he demanded, his voice low but edged with desperation. “Did sh
