The Mistress
“Now go home, Livy. The monster is waiting for his dinner.”
He let go of me as abruptly as he had grabbed me. I stood there, flushed and trembling, the ghost of his touch still searing my skin. I didn’t ask again. I couldn’t. I turned and fled back to the safety of my car, his voice echoing in my head.
The dining room was a theater of domesticity.
Daniel was already seated, looking “concerned” as he spoke to Rita and Michael. The atmosphere was somber, like a wake for a person who was still sitting at the table.