Except for Simon, none of the men she’d dated had shown such interest in her feelings, her opinions . . . or in her family. They’d looked only for openings to bring the talk directly to themselves and kept it there. Charley’s true interests had lain in feeding his own conceits, bleeding her dry, and getting his way. This disturbing recollection intruded of its own volition, and she faltered in her narration.
Stephan shot her a curious glance, correctly ascertained the nature of her thoughts by her expression—one of mingled anger, bitter resentment, and a certain fear. Curbing his desire to interrogate her about his cousin’s abuses, he prompted instead, “Your family performed in a small circus some years ago Geoffrey told me. I’m sure he didn’t give me all the details.”
She drew a breath,
