Vivienne sat back, arms now crossed, brows drawn in, the corner of her mouth tugged down in a faint, uncharacteristic pout.
She didn't speak for a moment. Just narrowed her eyes at the space between the two men, as if trying to decide which of them she was more annoyed at.
"You both kept this from me," she muttered. "You planned this—this ridiculous wager—and thought I didn't deserve to know?"
Damien offered a faint smile, quiet but warm.
"It was my decision," he said gently. "I didn't want you to worry."
Vivienne's gaze flicked toward him, sharp and wounded. "And that's supposed to make it better?"
"No," he admitted. "But it's the truth."
She didn't respond. Her fingers tapped once against her arm. Then again. A quiet, slow rhythm of restrained emotion. Finally, her voice returned, soft but pointed:
"But why did you make such a bet, Damien? Why now? For what reason?"
Damien didn't answer immediately. His smile lingered—but it changed.
