Amelia had barely slept.
All night, her mind had been plagued with memories of her conversation with Andrew. The way he had looked at her. The way his expression had flickered—just for a moment—before he crushed her feelings with that single, cruel sentence.
"You’re just a mistress to me."
She had replayed his words over and over again, trying to make sense of them.
Had she imagined everything? The way he would stare at her when he thought she wasn’t looking? The rare moments when his touch lingered longer than necessary? The way his eyes darkened with something unspoken whenever she was near?
No.
She wasn’t crazy.
She wasn’t foolish enough to believe he was in love with her, but she knew—she knew—he felt something.
And if he wasn’t man enough to admit it, then she wo
