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~Damon's POV
I let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of my neck. "I don't want to provoke you any further," I said, my voice low. "So… I'll give you space."
She didn't look up at me. Her fingers kept folding the shirt, pressing it flat like her whole focus was on that little piece of fabric and not on me.
I lingered at the doorway. Something in me didn't want to leave just yet. I wanted her to at least know that I cared. "But… before I go," I added, "one of the maids will bring you breakfast. You shouldn't skip it."
Her head turned just slightly then, just enough for me to catch the little smile tugging at her lips. Not a warm smile, more like a sharp, bitter one.
"I don't need that," she said, her voice calm but cutting. "I'll resume my work in the kitchen. I know when to get my breakfast, and I know where to get it. You don't have to send anyone."
