Ophelia’s POV:
“What do you mean? Why would he force you to leave?” I frowned.
Ilya’s eyes softened even further as he looked at me. It was a gaze I had spent years trying to scrub from my memory. It made me utterly restless, the kind of discomfort that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin. I wasn't the same girl he’d left behind; I didn't know how to receive a look like that anymore.
He shifted his weight, his eyes darting around the expansive lounge as though he expected someone to jump out of the shadows.
“Damon isn’t home,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I found myself trying to soothe him. “He’s still at work. The maids and workers have already retired for the night.”
I didn't know why I was reassuring him so easily. I felt a surge of shame at my own weakness. B
