Evangeline tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned back in her chair with satisfaction. She was having a great deal of fun right now.
"Tell me, Magnus… how do you look into the mirror each morning knowing there's a younger, happier, and more handsome version of yourself plastered all over the world? One who isn't afraid to show himself—all of himself—in ways that make women scream his name until their throats go raw? What does that feel like? Please elaborate, I'm truly curious."
The question landed exactly as the woman expected it to. A knife that was wedged between Magnus's ribs.
His forehead bulged, becoming a network of thick, throbbing veins that crawled across his skin. His jaw clenched so tightly the sound of grinding teeth filled the air. The veins pulsed in rhythm with his rage, grotesque in their prominence, his visage twisting into something far removed from the calm tactician the world knew.
