Yet, as soon as she was placed on the bed, Shalma Hughes suddenly opened her eyes, revealing a gaze brimming with amusement. In Julian Winslow's eyes, her smile held an undeniably intoxicating charm.
Looking at this woman who could change expressions faster than turning the page of a book, Julian unceremoniously dropped her onto the mattress. "Faking sleep again," he remarked, his tone icy.
Shalma pulled the covers over herself and rolled away, nestling deep into the soft bedding. "Who's faking? I was genuinely asleep," she retorted casually. "I just woke up when you came in."
Julian raised an eyebrow at her. Seeing her put on that look again—the one that made it seem as if he were bullying her—reminded him of dinner earlier. She had taken the chicken drumstick he placed in her bowl and passed it straight to Mrs. Lewis. An indescribable swell of emotion rose in his chest. "Why did you give the chicken to Mrs. Lewis at dinner?"
