Vivienne sat in the bath like a corpse that forgot to float.
The water was warm, the air was thick with steam, and candles flickered around the marble tub like little ghosts that couldn't decide whether to stay or melt away.
Her hair was pinned up. Her back was bare. Her mind, unfortunately, was very alive.
She was supposed to be relaxing. But her fucking brain, as usual, had other plans.
It kept replaying his voice. That one sentence.
I want to burn it to the fucking ground.
Vivienne groaned and sank a little deeper into the water. "For fuck's sake, can I not think about him for one bloody hour?"
Her voice echoed softly against the tiles. No one answered.
The only sounds were the soft dripping of water and the occasional pop from the candles.
She closed her eyes and muttered to herself. "He's just another rich idiot. A spoiled bastard with too much money and not enough sense. Probably cried for three days when his fucking pet bird died or something."
