"Where were you?" Dahlia demanded as she stepped into the room, her sharp gaze fixed on Sullivan. He was standing near the wardrobe, his fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, pausing momentarily at her voice.
He turned to face her, but before he could respond, she continued, "I thought about what you said," she began, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you dare to say I should leave you, then I'll never forgive you."
Sullivan paused, lowering his hands from his half-unbuttoned shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead. His gaze softened, though his voice carried an unwavering firmness.
"You don't need to forgive me," he said quietly. "But I need you to come with me somewhere tomorrow."
Dahlia frowned, her arms still crossed. "Where?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.
