Dawn
The expression on Vincent’s face is deadly. He glares at Gwen, and she squirms in her seat. If looks could kill, she would be ten feet under by now.
“Gwen, please explain yourself.” He says it as calmly as he can, then comes to sit next to me. He places his hand on my exposed thigh from the little dress I wore today.
Gwen glares at Vincent’s hand, but she knows better than to say anything. All she was making were empty claims to get a reaction out of me. She doesn't know that I have been working on my emotions; it's not every little thing that needs my reaction. What is the saying that the lion doesn't concern himself?
“It’s your workers who don’t respect me.” She says courage. She sits up straighter, and I keep my cool.
Tanya makes it back and sits on one of the chairs.
“
