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We stand there in an awkward staring match before I clear my throat.

“Is there anything else I can wear?”

Alarm enters her eyes like she’s surprised I asked for something before she gingerly steps away from the bed and shoves open a sliding closet door.

“Of course. Here are some sweats. They should be warm and more comfortable than the dress you were in.”

Knowing she was one of the people who saw me like that should make me feel something other than numb. Too bad I’m all out of feelings for today.

I take the gray sweatsuit and pair of cotton panties from her, getting dressed right there under my towel.

The woman doesn’t pretend to be busy. In fact, she stands there, eyes on me with her hands clasped in front of her.

“You know, nobody saw you but me.”

“Sorry?”

“It was me. Changing you. Nobody touched you but me.”

Her soft voice is kind. Earnest.

A whisper of comfort tries to bloom in my chest.

“Oh…okay.”

She nods, tucking her perfect hair behind her ear. “Just wanted you to know that.”

It doesn’t make me feel any less violated, but itdoeshelp. I guess I get to keep a sliver of my dignity.

“My name is Agnes. I’ve worked for Adonis for five years. Anything you need in this house, just ask me and I’ll get it for you.”

How many people like me has she seen in five years? That’s the only question I want to ask. The realization that she works for him and is not my ally keeps my lips shut.

“I changed your sheets while you were in the shower. And there’s soup and a sandwich on the nightstand.” She gestures toward the night table. “I wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be, so I brought some applesauce and a cereal bar just in case.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“I just need my phone.”

A look between pity and understanding passes over her face before we’re interrupted and footsteps scamper against the hardwood floors.

My head snaps to the door, and a genuine smile pops onto my face. Instead of barging in, the dog stands there, waiting for an invitation.

There’s no way that arrogant man I met earlier has this adorable dog.

Ms. Agnes rushes to shoo him away. “Sorry, he doesn’t get to meet new people often.”

“It’s okay,” I mutter, fascinated by the fur baby. The smattering of gray around his mouth doesn’t change the fact he’s a baby.

I walk over to the door and hold my hand steady to let him sniff, my nose wrinkling from the tickle of his whiskers.

“What’s your name?” I coo.

“Titus,” Agnes fills in.

Just like that, the knot around my heart tries to loosen. This isstillfucked up. Istillwant to go home. But who can be mad at an angel like this?