“Well, well,” one of them smirked. “Where are you off to with that suitcase, Miss Luxton? Don’t tell me you’re finally leaving?”
I ignored him and focused on Simon, who was slumped between them. “What happened to him?”
They dumped him unceremoniously onto the couch, then turned to me. “Take care of him, will you? He’s your man, after all.”
The way they treated me like his nanny made my blood boil. Before, I would swallow their insults, thinking I deserved their disdain. Well, not anymore.
I said coldly, "I'm not his nanny. So don’t speak to me like I am."
"You …!"
One of them took a threatening step forward, clearly provoked, but the others held him back. I pointed to the door. “Get out.”
Once they were gone, Simon stirred awake. He bent down, trying to kiss me.
I turned my head away, shoved him off and stood up. Straightening my torn clothes, I said in a flat tone, “Not tonight. I don't want to. Besides, it's not safe to have this in the first trimester.”
Seeing my serious expression, Simon tried to coax me, softening his tone. “Why are you avoiding me? Are you still upset about the fashion show? I’m sorry, okay? How about I buy you Chanel’s new couture line? Come on, baby, forgive me.”