Unwilling to prolong her retreat to the safety of her room, Violet quickly washed her hands, her mind replaying the earlier encounter with Cain in vivid, burning detail. Her heart thudded dully in her chest as she stepped back into the main room, expecting his usual predatory smirk or some sly comment. But the sight that greeted her made her pause.
Cain was no longer sprawled on the bed, waiting for her return with his disconcerting patience. Instead, he leaned casually against his desk, his robe tied loosely around his waist, exposing his chest. A servant worked efficiently by the bedside, stripping away the soiled sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. The soft shuffle of fabric was the only sound in the room, and for a moment, Cain's gaze flickered to her, his expression unreadable.