Apparently, the slap wasn't satisfying enough for her, because she tried to kick my luggage out of the house as well.I caught her wrist before her foot connected and demanded, "Who the hell are you?"She struggled to break free, but after two failed attempts, she gave up with an irritated huff. "Ugh! My name's Heather DeVry, okay? Mr. Windsor saved me and let me live here. He just can't get enough of my looks, okay?"My gaze fell on the nightgown she was wearing. It had been one of my late mother's favorites. My father had kept it hanging in their shared closet for years and had never allowed anyone to touch it. Yet here it was, draped over another woman, its fabric even stained with foundation.Heather mistook my silence for intimidation and smiled smugly, lifting her chin. "I've met plenty of girls like you. You really thought you could win older men's hearts just because you're young and pretty, didn't you?"I'll admit, you look a little like his late wife, but sorry, darling.
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