The room was quiet. Too quiet.
Vivienne could hear the sound of her own pulse in her ears. Her eyes were locked on his, his eyes locked on hers. Neither moved. Neither blinked. It was like they were both frozen in some stupid painting, and for one insane second she thought if someone walked in right now, they'd think this was romantic.
Romantic, my ass.
Her lips parted slightly, and she hated herself for it. His eyes were so steady, so unreadable, like he had all the time in the world to stare at her and absolutely ruin her sanity. His mouth twitched as if he might smile.
That was when reality came crashing back.
Vivienne's brain screamed. God, why the fuck am I staring at this bastard?
At the exact same time, André's own thought hit like a slap. What the hell am I doing staring at her like that?
