Chapter 22

• Amaris POV
• Dinner crawled by, thick with awkward tension. I played my part like a pro the uncomfortable one while Theron perfected the art of silent torment. I tried to keep my eyes on my plate, pushing ravioli around as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. But his burning stare clung to me like a second skin. I abandoned my food halfway through, switching to wine instead. Maybe this was his newest form of punishment, and if it was, I had to admit he’d outdone himself. Bravo, Theron.
• The car ride back to the penthouse was no better. We exchanged a few words bland, surface-level exchanges that meant nothing. Just like at dinner, the tension between us said more than any syllable spoken aloud.