Alex smiled gently, leaning forward. "That's because you're not the same Sasha I met thirty years ago."
That made her glance up, brow arching slightly. "Oh? And what was that Sasha like?"
He grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. "Cold. Sharp. Arrogant. Like a snow queen sitting on a throne of sarcasm."
Sasha's lips twitched. "How romantic."
"Oh, you have no idea," Alex said with a laugh. "When I first saw you in that dreadful formal meeting — you remember? The one with the board members? You were sitting there with your chin up, refusing to talk to anyone. I thought, 'Now there's a woman who could freeze a man with just a look.'"
Sasha chuckled, the first real laugh of the morning. "That's because I didn't want to be there. My father forced me to attend."
"Oh, I remember," Alex said, nodding. "You looked like you'd rather stab someone with your pen than smile."
"And yet you still walked up to me," Sasha said, smirking slightly. "You must have been either brave or stupid."
