EMBER’S POV
The rest of the morning becomes an exercise in managing chaos.
Rayana needs her medication. No, not that medication, the other one, the one in the small bottle, no thesmaller bottle. The sheets are too rough. Doesn’t Knox own anything with a thread count above three hundred? These feel like sandpaper. Is this how he treats all his guests?
She needs her pillows fluffed, which she demonstrates with elaborate hand gestures that somehow require Knox to lean close enough that his face is inches from hers.
She holds the position for several beats too long, smiling sweetly while I fantasize about what it would feel like to suffocate her with those same goddamn pillows.
“Like this,” she says, her voice pitched low and intimate. “Firm but gentle. You always were good with your hand
