“Andrew,” he turned to our surprised host. “Miss Morgan and I need to talk in the next room.”
“Certainly,” Andrew replied. No one seemed to know exactly what was going on, and certainly I didn’t.
“What the hell’s going on with you?” Reggie demanded to know as soon as we were alone in an adjoining sitting room.
I was breathing heavily, my sobs and tears and rage were still right at the surface. I wanted to scream.
“I don’t know,” I finally snapped at him, through my labored breathing.
“You’d better.” He leveled me with a severe, fatherly grimace, then he lifted my bowed head and squarely in the eye. “Talk! Now!” he demanded.
I couldn’t stop looking at him, though I continued to struggle with his grip on my chin. He kept bringing my face back so I finally gave up, and let his constant
