Hidden Hearts
she countered, her lips curving faintly, “I’m just very good at not being noticed.”
His smile deepened, slow and deliberate, like someone savoring the first taste of a game worth playing. “I find that hard to believe.”
She let her gaze drift past him toward the auction stage, a calculated dismissal, as if their exchange were nothing more than idle politeness. “Belief,” she murmured, “is optional.”
He followed her line of sight—briefly—but his focus returned to her, sharpened. “Perhaps. But I have a feeling,” his eyes caught hers in a way that felt more like a promise than a prediction, “we’ll see each other again before the night ends.”
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