Chapter Five
Andrea’s POV
By eight o’clock I am already sitting at the long dining table like he ordered. My back stays straight, hands resting on my lap the way I practiced a hundred times in front of cracked mirrors at home.
The table looks like someone is throwing a party for twenty people instead of just two. Plates of roasted meat, creamy pasta, fresh salads, grilled fish, and little desserts I cannot even name cover every inch. Everything smells rich and expensive. My stomach should be growling, but all I feel is a tight knot sitting heavy inside me.
I wait.
The chair feels too big under me. The lights above shine too bright. Even the cool air from the vents feels too perfect. I keep telling myself this is what I wanted. This is the life I spent months faking. But sitting here
