Up close, I could see she was older than Nicole or Ms. Brandenburg—perhaps fifty. But Mrs. Roman’s classic beauty defied age. Even the crow’s feet at her eyes accented her character, not her years. The slant of her eyes endowed her with an exotic, international flair, and I imagined she’d continue beguiling people with her glamour for two more decades.
My eyes followed her as she retraced her steps to the side of the bed where the bedside table was. I rolled over on my right side to continue admiring her. Despite loathing the way she contemptuously humiliated me, after I thought I’d already reached bottom, I would have forgiven her everything past and future if she’d let me taste her fruits, which she so sternly forbade me.
“How’s your blood pressure, Miss Ivey?” Mrs. Roman mocked me. “
