Villain Ch 1717. You Look Like You're Having a Monologue in Your Head
She exhaled. Quiet. Trying not to fidget.
Across the table, Allen didn't move. He was perfectly still, head tilted slightly, the ghost of that smug, impossible smirk still playing on his lips. Like he knew. Like he always knew.
And that was exactly the problem.
She had no defense against someone who could ruin her entire night with a kiss and then offer it as a gift. Who said things like "you fought beautifully" while still wiping the floor with her in a duel.
She took another sip of her tea, pretending it helped.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Both of them glanced up.
Emma.
Descending the stairs with the kind of energy that could only be described as post-nap chaos, she had a loose hoodie slung halfway off one shoulder, gym shorts that may or may not have been stolen from Allen's drawer, and one fuzzy sock because the other had mysteriously vanished in the laundry void.
