Her eyes immediately darkened, the warmth fading from them. "I wanted to ask why," she said slowly, her tone caught somewhere between anger and restraint. "But knowing you? You probably don't want to tell me."
I poured another glass of the wine, the liquid catching the glow of the chandelier. "I'll tell you."
Whitney blinked, caught off guard. "R–Really?"
"I'm telling you this because you're sharp enough to already suspect most of it," I said, meeting her gaze. "But you'll have to follow my conditions."
Her curiosity flickered, overtaking her hesitation. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. "Spill."
"First," I began, swirling the wine in my glass, "don't ask how I found out. I can tell you everything else, but not that."
"As long as you tell me everything, I'm fine with that," she said.
Whitney nodded once. "As long as you tell me everything, I'm fine with that."
"Second," I continued, narrowing my eyes at her, "don't tell anyone. Especially them."
