Chapter 5 - The Morning Ultimatum
The morning after the soup incident, the house was suffocatingly quiet. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, icing my swollen cheek, when Grant walked into the bedroom. He looked completely unbothered, freshly showered and smelling of expensive cologne.
He tossed a small, black makeup box onto the mattress beside me. It landed with a soft thud.
“Cover those bruises and smile,” he ordered, his voice clipped and businesslike as he stood in front of the full-length mirror, fastening a pair of silver cuff links. “My boss is coming over today for a private dinner. If you ruin this promotion for me, I promise you will regret it.”
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I stared at the expensive concealer, my stomach twisting into a tight knot. I looked up at my reflection in the vanity mirror—the purple and yellow mottling across my cheekbone was impossible to ignore. “What time?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
His mouth curved into a confident, predatory smirk. “Six o'clock sharp. Mr. Cross is personally considering me for the vice president position. It’s down to me and one other guy. One good dinner, one perfect evening showing off my perfect domestic life, and we are set for life. Do not mess this up, Mara.” He adjusted his tie, gave me a final, warning glare, and left for the office.
