MAEVE'S POV
I blinked, momentarily disarmed by the sheer force of his amusement. That laugh—it wasn't mocking, not exactly. It was playful, full of warmth, and it made my pulse spike all over again.
Ivan's gray eyes gleamed with mischief as he finally regained some composure, though his lips still quirked in that dangerous, teasing smirk.
"You… you've got quite the imagination, Maeve. And yet," he leaned a fraction closer, letting his voice dip into a lower, huskier timbre, "I kind of love that about you."
I fought to keep my expression neutral.
"Oh, please. Who then was she?"
"Maeve… that 'woman' was literally sent to seduce me by my mother. She tried to hug me, yes, and I may have… forcibly removed her from the room—but I did not cheat. I didn't even touch her or give her a second thought after that. You smelled it on me because… well, you're just that attuned to me. Hell, I didn't even notice her scent."
