IVAN'S POV
"Mother." I stepped toward her, still reeling, and instinctively reached out to steady her or offer her a seat. She slapped my hand away with a sharp smack.
"Don't fuss over me like I'm made of glass. Answer my question."
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling through clenched teeth.
"Why, in Selene's good name, did you send that woman to my bed?"
Her brows arched in mock innocence.
"Because I'm trying to give you what you need. I was expecting a thank you after a long night of using her—not that nasty, sour expression on your face."
I stared at her, deadpan. I wished I could say I was surprised, but this was typical of my mother.
It used to be worse before Maeve came along. She'd throw noblewoman after noblewoman my way—they came in all body types, shapes, and sizes.
