“So, who are you, Rowan Caine?” he asked. His voice was a little slurred, and I wondered how much he’d had to drink. Something, something in his tone, in the directness of the question, in the uncomfortably intense intimacy of his gaze, made my stomach shift uneasily.
Really well described, I can easily visualize the unnerving shift in demeanor she's describing. I feel vicarious dread for sure.
