My wrist was gripped tightly in his hand. A soft, moist sensation traveled through his fingertips as Howard's downcast eyes brimmed with inscrutable emotions.
Oppressive, fervent, and profound, as if it could pull me under at any moment.
Howard asked, "You haven't cooked for Steven these past months, have you?"
I merely nodded.
I was his mistress, not his maid.
Howard stayed in this apartment to enjoy my body, not my cooking.
His meals could be handled by the servants, or even the lady of that lavish villa, but that was never my concern.
But today was different. This was a farewell meal. For Steven and me. For Howard and me. My ties to these two men were like the lotus root on the cutting board—sliced however you want, the threads still clung.
"But you cooked for me today. I'm happ
