Roman woke up at dawn the next day.
The very first thing he did the second his eyes fluttered open was ask, "Where's Willow? Is she okay?"
The guard told him I'd sent a maid in with breakfast of my own accord and had even asked how his injuries were healing.
Roman's eyes snapped bright in an instant.
That giddy, over-the-moon rush of getting back something he thought he'd lost painted a faint flush across his otherwise pale face. He didn't even bother trying to find out who that "maid" really was. He was so desperate to believe I'd had a change of heart.
Even the tiniest, thinnest sliver of hope was enough for him to cling to with both hands, clinging tightly to that sweet, delusional little fantasy.
Over the next few days, I put on a show of "warming up to him."
I'd eat the meals
