Vivienne stood frozen, clutching her dress tightly to her chest. Her skin still tingled from the morning chaos, every inch of her marked and bruised. Her brain screamed a million protests. She wanted to say no. Of course, she wanted to say no. Who in their right mind would willingly share a bath with André, of all people, after what had just happened?
But André didn't give her a chance to decide. He stood, stretching and towering over her, and gently cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs traced her cheekbones softly.
"Will you?" he asked, the smallest hint of amusement in his tone.
And like an idiot, her mouth betrayed her before her brain could intervene. "Yes," she whispered.
Inside, her thoughts screamed. Yes? You idiot! Why did you just say yes? What the actual fuck is wrong with you? He literally just had you for breakfast. You are going to die in a vat of boiling water if you step in that bath. Someone shoot me in the head now.
