"You wound me…."
he said, quieter this time. "Do you really think I do this to anyone?"
She didn't answer, but her glare didn't falter.
He leaned back slightly, eyes still on hers, no smirk now—just something cool, level. "Did you ever see me around others? Even once? Laughing with girls? Touching them like this? Sitting beside them like I sit beside you?"
Isabelle's jaw tightened.
Because no, she hadn't.
He kept to himself more often than not. And if he was talking to someone, it was sharp, transactional, or a rare moment of consequence. He wasn't social. He wasn't flirtatious.
He wasn't like that.
Damien watched her expression shift, just slightly.
Then added, softly, "No. You didn't."
He let the silence hang, then leaned forward once more, picking up another bite of food like nothing had happened.
Damien chewed slowly, swallowed, and let the next words fall into the quiet between them.
