“Are you sure you don’t want anything? I can sense you’re not eating,” Derek said, his cold voice adding to the heavy tension in the room. His fingers traced the edge of the plate in front of him, feeling the slight unevenness where the fruit slices sat.
Annabelle had been helping him pick at the fruit Daisy had brought, her hands trembling slightly as she stabbed a slice of apple with the fork. She avoided his face as she muttered, “I told you, I’m fine. If I need anything, I’ll get it myself. This is for you—from your beloved maid.”
Derek tilted his head, listening to her tone. “Sarcasm again?” he asked, his lips twitching in a faint, humorless smile. “You know, you might try being honest for once.”
“Honest?” Annabelle responded her voice sharper now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
