Freya was in the kitchen cooking when Mia padded in, holding a mug of steaming coffee. As she flipped her hair to the other side, Freya couldn’t help but notice the faint red marks scattered along Mia’s neck.
Mia didn’t miss the way Freya’s eyes lingered. Her lips curled into a thin smile before hardening again.
“You know something, Freya?” she began, her tone sharp. “It won’t take me long before I kick you out of this house. I mean, you’re his employee. How can you live here?”
Her words burned with fury.
Freya said nothing, choosing instead to turn away, but Mia caught her arm with surprising force, her eyes blazing.
“You can’t just walk out on me.”
“Let me go,” Freya snapped, jerking her arm free. In the struggle, the mug tipped, and hot coffee spilled over Mia’s wrist and blouse.
