Marie's POV
My cheeks were still hurting from the slap. I hated to see Patricia on his lap. Not because I wanted Mancini to myself. I didn't even want to. I just worried for another woman who was playing right into his traps. It only helps me to get less of his attention these days.
There was no way to make her see the truth.
The smell of burnt coffee filled the kitchen. I tried to keep my hands steady as I poured more water into the pot, but my palms were already shaking. The laughter behind me didn't help. There were some maids in the kitchen, and since I entered, they had been laughing.
"Look at her," one of the maids whispered.
"She doesn't even know how to make coffee properly," another said, giggling.
I kept my eyes on the pot, pretending not to hear. My heart was pounding too loudly anyway. The flame flared up under the kettle, and before I could move it away, the hot metal brushed my fingers.
