Chapter 15 I Was Claire Fucking Moreau

• Claire
• The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the fine china, the expensive red wine in my glass untouched as I tapped my manicured nails against the linen-covered table. The restaurant was quieter than usual, the background chatter and clinking of glasses nothing more than a dull hum against the roaring irritation in my mind.
• I had been sitting here for over an hour, my patience thinning by the second. He was supposed to be here by now.