It would have been a normal breakfast. Really, it should have been nothing more than a meal, something calm and ordinary. But nothing with André and Vivienne ever stayed ordinary. It would have been normal if André wasn't feeding her in a way that made her want to puke her guts out. If you had walked into the room, you would have sighed and thought, what a sweet couple. The kind of couple you'd paint on a porcelain plate. But the truth was ugly. Both of them were pathological liars.
André sat close to her on the bed, holding the tray with the kind of grace only a duke could have. His posture was perfect, his smile delicate and warm, like the sun itself had been caught and placed on his lips. Anyone else would have believed it. Anyone else would have sworn that he was hopelessly in love with the woman in front of him.
He scooped up a spoonful of food, leaned in close, and said softly, "Say ah."
He looked like a charming new groom feeding his new bride.
