Lance hears Andrea scoffing by the dresser. She turns up the hairdryer in the hopes that the sound will muffle out Lance and Robert’s conversation, but the dryer is suddenly snatched away from her hands. Lance holds it instead and points it toward her hair. The warm wind blows on her hair and his long fingers gently brush it.
“That’s enough. I can handle this on my own,” Andrea says as she reaches to grab the dryer, “Miss Lisa is still waiting for you at the presidential suite. Don’t you have to go up to give her an explanation?”
“I don’t need to give anyone but you an explanation,” Lance says stubbornly.
He continues to dry her hair for her.
“You don’t have to. We’ve already signed the—”
Lance’s look turns dark, and his fingers twist in Andrea’s hair. It hurts her scalp. She’s not th
