The door had barely stopped swinging when Ella finally found her voice again.
"Nicholas—"
He flinched.
It wasn't obvious. Just a twitch of his jaw, a slight shift of his shoulders. But she'd been with him long enough to read the small tells beneath the polished armor he wore like second skin. He'd always been that way with her—steady, contained, a fortress made of elegance and sharp intelligence—but now there were cracks.
He wasn't angry.
No—anger would've been easier. She knew how to handle anger, could've weathered his fury like rain against the glass.
This?
This was worse.
He looked… betrayed.
"I wasn't going to kiss him," she said hoarsely, stepping forward despite the weight pressing down on her limbs, her hands trembling. "I swear to you—I wasn't—I didn't even know he was going to—"
But Nicholas shook his head once, sharply, like he couldn't bear the sound of her excuses.
"Don't," he said softly. "Don't lie to me."
