Catherine's POV
A knock came barely a minute after I tossed my phone aside. Three short, impatient taps. I laughed, already knowing who it was.
I didn't need a psychic to tell me that was Julian. He was obviously here to get me to delete the picture.
Besides, only one person in this house knocked on my door like he was doing me a favor.
"Julian, you better go away!" I shouted, not moving from my bed.
He didn't respond. After a silence that lasted for two seconds, the knob turned and of course, he walked in.
He stood at the door in his grey sweatpants and an expression that said I was about to be murdered.
"Delete it," he said simply.
I blinked. "Delete what?" I asked, pretending I had no idea of what he was talking about.
"The picture."
"Oh," I said with exaggerated innocence. "The picture." I crossed my legs. "But what picture?"
His jaw tightened. "Catherine."
"Julian." I mirrored his tone.
