Cynthia’s stomach churned as she pushed the scrambled eggs around her plate. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, but she barely noticed. Her appetite had vanished the moment Mike walked into the dining room.
He sat across from her, elegant as always in a crisp black shirt; the top button was undone, and his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the veins on his forearms. He was effortlessly intimidating.
Cynthia kept her gaze down, her mind clouded with uncertainty. Last night had been restless. The moment she had drifted off to sleep, thoughts of what she had gotten herself into yanked her awake. This wasn’t just a marriage on paper. She was living under his roof, bound by rules she had no power to change.
And now, something in Mike’s expression told her today was
