“Midnight, Julian,” the Senator said.

He stepped out into the cold, and the heavy door clicked shut behind him.

The silence returned, colder than before.

I stared at the back of Julian’s dark coat, my breath shallow.

My hands were shaking, and I pressed them against my apron to hide it.

I needed to speak.

I needed to tell him that I would pack our things and leave immediately.

It was the only logical choice.

I could not be the reason his family’s empire crumbled.

“Mr. Mercer,” I began, my voice barely a whisper.

He did not move.

He stood there, staring at the closed door as if he could see right through the wood.

“Go back to the kitchen, Claire,” he said.

His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

“But the Senator—”

“Go back to the kitchen,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, even though he could not see me.

I turned and walked back down the long, dim corridor.

My boots made no sound on the thick rugs.