Anastasia didn't wait for another verbal lash. She gathered the shredded remains of her dignity along with her lace bra and bolted for the bedroom.
The click of the door locking behind her felt like the only safety she had left.
She collapsed against the wood, sliding down until her knees hit the carpet. Her skin still hummed from his touch, a traitorous vibration that made her loathe herself as much as she loathed him.
He had played her like an instrument, bringing her to the edge of madness only to remind her that, to him, she was now soiled by the mere existence of another man in her life.
Outside, she heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of Matteo's shoes as he paced the living room, followed by the distant chime of the elevator. He was leaving.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Anastasia stood up, her legs still trembling. She needed to wash the scent of him off her skin.
She stepped into the bathroom.
