CHAPTER SEVEN
The house was quiet, but my mind wasn't.
I leaned at the edge of my desk, the glass of untouched scotch warming on my palm. The room was strangely still except for the soft rumble of air vents and the far off crackle of burning logs in the fire.
Francesca had left nearly fifteen minutes earlier. And yet, she hadn't. Not really.
She'd gone out with the same calm, steady pace she'd come in with, unshaken and unapologetic. I had told her she was moving in expecting resistance, not because I necessarily needed her to be here, but because I wanted to get under her skin.
She didn’t argue, just hesitated and when I finally decided a day for her, tomorrow, she only nodded and agreed. That was it
I attempted to get her out of my head, but the longer the silence in my office stre
