Dorian fell silent for a moment, then let the corner of his mouth curl into a faint, knowing smile. Audrey felt it like a soft nudge, precise and controlled, almost predatory in its calmness.
His dark, wolf-sharp eyes rested on her as he murmured, low and steady, "Ms. Willow… you don't have to be so nervous. I don't bite."
Audrey stiffened, heat creeping up her cheeks. Who said she was nervous? She wasn't afraid of him. Not really. She was careful, trying to maintain distance, to keep everything clean and orderly. The last thing she wanted was for Dorian to think she was scheming, circling him for some hidden purpose.
Fate had shoved them together far too often already. The flimsy excuse about sending the text to the wrong person now felt almost laughable—even she wouldn't have believed it if someone else said it.
