Stella's POV:
I was worried that, just like before, he had seen right through me again.
So I hurried to pack up the meal box, pretending I was focusing on eating rather than lost in thought.
Suddenly, a pair of handsome, well-defined hands reached over and took the bag from me. He then carefully placed the spoon, containers of veloutés, and side dishes into the bag. Finally, he lifted it and tossed it into the trash can at the foot of the bed.
He pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand and handed it to me. After I took it, he pulled out a few more to wipe his hands.
His movements were gentle. "What's your issue with him?"
His voice was deep and smooth, like fine wine.
A pang shot through my heart, and I lowered my head, hiding my face from him. "Nothing."
Actually, I longed
