The long, silent, and deeply humiliating walk from Marissa's bedchamber to his own study was a torment. Derek's bootsteps were heavy, each one an angry, frustrated thud on the plush carpets. His mind was a chaotic, burning storm.
"Close the door on your way out."
He muttered the words under his breath, his voice a low growl. He had been dismissed. Dismissed. By his own wife, in his own house, after he had come to her room, his motives a confusing, tangled mess of concern and a strange, unfamiliar attraction. He had been clumsy. He had been awkward. And she had looked at him as if he were a foolish, inconvenient boy.
He felt like a fool.
