“Now, let’s talk,” she began. “It’s true that I’m a bit angry, but…”
Her voice faltered, her long lashes lowering like crescent moons shimmering with unshed tears. Her rose-colored lips parted, then closed, searching for words that refused to come. She didn’t realize those delicate lips were the only weapon capable of wounding him. Whether this moment was a tragedy or comedy, Vlad couldn’t tell. It was simply agony.
A raindrop trickled down her cheek, leaving a glistening trail that made his heart ache.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal. I just…” she began, hesitating.
Before she could continue, Vlad stepped closer. The sudden movement silenced her, and she instinctively shrank back. It was a fleeting, natural reaction—but to him, it felt like a thorn lodged in his throat. Without a word, he brushed past her and pulled open the door to the ebony carriage tucked away in a corner.
“The rain is getting heavier. Please, come inside,” he urged.
