“Strolling. I strolled away after you hung back and watched me talk to that assassin as if you couldn’t care less. As if you weren’t interested in me at all.” He releases an incredulous laugh. “Is that what you think? That I’m not interested in you?” His expression darkens. “I suppose you’re right, though.” His callous agreement twists a knife in my heart. A painful knot clogs my throat. “Of course.” “Interested is far too tame a word to describe how I feel about you. Obsessed, bewitched. Those come closer.”
