The moment the door clicked shut, Arthur's lips stretched into a slow, knowing smirk. Sheila’s attempt to slip away unnoticed had failed miserably.
A chuckle rumbled from his chest as he watched the door settle into place.
He had been awake for over an hour, lying still, studying her features as she slept soundly in his arms. Every rise and fall of her breath, the way her lashes fluttered when she dreamed—it was a sight he never expected to witness up close.
When she stirred, a sign she would wake soon, he had shut his eyes and feigned sleep. He wanted to see what she would do.
And she had not disappointed.
Arthur clenched his fists, his smirk fading as he recalled the sadness in her voice when she spoke of her marriage with Jacob. That son of a b***h. He wanted to rip the bastard apa
