Lynn's POV
Ivan stops close enough that I have to take a half step back to keep comfortable distance between us.
He's different today. The arrogance from the banquet — that particular brand of entitled Alpha energy, the kind that assumes the room is already arranged in its favor — has been dialed all the way down. What's in its place is something more careful. He meets my eyes without the usual upward tilt of his chin, and when he speaks his voice has none of the performance I remember.
"I owe you an apology." He says it plainly. "The banquet — the way I spoke to you, the position I took — it was inappropriate. It was disrespectful." A pause. "I'm sorry."
I look at him.
The apology is technically correct. The words are right, the delivery is measured, the eye contact is appropriately
