Savannah's POV
I never expected a warm greeting from my husband in the morning. More than that, I was actually hoping he would disappear to his office, leaving me to pretend yesterday never happened.
What caught me completely off guard was finding Jonathan lounging at the kitchen island, casually sipping coffee while typing on his laptop. Working from home, apparently.
My irritation flared, but I forced myself to stay calm. I reached for the bowl of fresh strawberries on the marble counter, deliberately letting my silk robe slip off one shoulder as I moved.
It was petty and childish to flaunt the bruises the escort had left on my skin, but I couldn't resist. Jonathan might have ignored the sounds echoing through our penthouse last night, might have walked past my wide-open bedroom door without so much as a glance, but surely he couldn't ignore the physical proof staring him in the face.
At least, that's what I told myself.
"Good morning, Savannah."
