Ivy clenched her fists around the hem of her dress. “Is all of this really necessary?” She snapped. “I agreed to feed you, I agreed to go to your playroom, I agreed to fecking be here, isn’t that enough?” Silas lowered the questionnaire to his lap, studying her reaction in silence. Anxiety and vulnerability warped into anger, and Ivy scowled. “What does it matter what I like or don’t like? It’s fine, you don’t have to—I mean, I don’t have any expectations for—” “Ivy.” He cut her off gently. “It does matter. It matters to me quite a lot.” His stare brimmed with earnest compassion, and it almost
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