The next morning, Lydia woke up alone and confused. She was snuggled into the blankets, as usual, one hand under the pillow, with her face buried into it. But there wasn't a block of ice that she expected to be hugging. Raising her head, she glanced around with a frown.
"So much for staying," Lydia muttered, sitting up and looking at her nightstand, seeing not even a single note behind.
Lydia swung her legs out of the bed and threw the blankets back, knowing she had a full day of work today.
"Oh lord," Lydia said upon noticing the bruises around her upper thighs where he had grabbed her the most. She weakly got out of bed and began preparing for the day, brushing her teeth and taking a shower.
Lydia stepped out of the shower and nearly screamed bloody murder at the sight of a man in her room. Weston had walked back into her bedroom, fully clothed. She gulped and looked at him with surprise.
