Dominic walked past Cynthia, his brow furrowed in that familiar, impatient way.
Cynthia pressed her lips together and quietly followed him out of the study.
As she reached the doorway, she caught sight of Dominic by the shoe cabinet. He pulled open one of the lower doors and took out a pair of slippers.
“No need, really, I’m fine barefoot,” Cynthia protested, waving her hands.
Every woman has a certain possessiveness about her boyfriend, she thought. She knew exactly what it meant for a woman to leave her things at a man’s place—it was a declaration, a quiet staking of territory. So there was no way she could wear those slippers.
Dominic shot her a look, then bent down and set the slippers at her feet. His voice was low and unyielding.
“I said put them on.”
Cynthia had only glimpsed the slippers in the cabinet earlier, not noticing that they were nearly identical to the pair Dominic wore—clearly a matching set.
She let out a quiet sigh, resigned. Seeing the impatience written all over his face, she lowered her voice and tried to explain.
“Mr. Holloway, maybe men don’t always get how women think. If a pair of slippers ends up in your cabinet, it means no one but the woman who put them there is supposed to wear them. If you give them to me today and Miss Kingsley finds out tomorrow, well... she’s not going to be happy.”
Cynthia hadn’t even finished when Dominic cut her off, his expression stony.
“Didn’t you say you weren’t stupid?”
She blinked, caught off guard. How did they end up here?
Dominic’s tone was cold and final.
“Because you seem pretty stupid to me.”
With that, he strode into the dining room and took a seat at the table.
Cynthia stood there, bewildered by his inexplicable attack on her intelligence.
Just then, the gentle man in chef’s whites finished setting all the dishes on the table. Spotting Cynthia frozen in the doorway, he smiled warmly.
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