Agnes
I stared down at the rose in my hand, unsure of what it was supposed to represent. It was a beautiful flower, but the red color also left my head reeling. Was it an apology? A romantic gesture? An attempt at taking back what he’d said?
And then Elijah told me to get ready for dinner, and my confusion only deepened.
My lips parted to protest, or at least ask why, but the words never came. He didn’t give me the chance, either. He just turned on his heel, walking across the room to adjust his cufflinks or check his phone or some other inconsequential thing that Elijah always seemed to busy himself with. I glanced down at the rose again, my mind racing.
“Dinner?” I echoed, finally finding my voice. “What about Thea?”
“She’s taken care of,” Elijah replied, not even loo
