He shrugs. “What did you want me to say? That you weren’t being a brat?”
“Something comforting, maybe,” I suggest.
He smirks. “You came to the wrong man for that.”
“I thought you were telling me a story, not looking for comfort.”
“I wasn’t looking for—it’s just what a normal person would do.”
He looks supremely unconcerned by that assessment. “Guess I’m not normal then.”
I almost smile. Leo Solovev is anything but normal. “You really mean it, don’t you?”
“You genuinely don’t care what people think of you. I mean, tons of people say that. But you mean it.”
He nods once. “I mean it.”
I draw on my last reserves of confidence. “Not even me?”
His smile turns inscrutable. “Willow, you don’t know me well enough to form a real opinion either way. So, no. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me
