Ophelia’s POV:
He had said his part. I had listened to everything.
And I had understood it all.
There was a part of me—a sick, desperate part of me that I hated—that felt a sudden blossom of hope at his words. It was a fragile, dangerous thing, unfurling in the dark corners of my heart where I had buried my girlhood crush.
“You’re saying… that… you… wanted to be my mate?” I whispered, the words feeling foreign and clumsy on my tongue. I looked up at him. “And you didn’t want me to be your step-sister. Or a Vitale?”
He seemed to have been pulled out of a trance by my voice. His eyes snapped to mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. His hand was still near my face, and his fingertips, which had been barely grazing my skin, finally made contact. His touch was warm as he nodded
