“How did you know?” Fiore asked quietly as she sat on the edge of the bed, her back to Lance.
She heard him shift, likely sitting up behind her. “Based on experience,” he replied simply, his tone carrying a faint trace of humor. “You can be—”
“Stubborn?” Fiore interrupted, turning to face him.
A smirk tugged at his lips. “Your words, not mine,” he teased, but there was a flicker of something more serious in his eyes.
Lance leaned forward, his gaze locking with hers. “But you do let your emotions cloud your judgment sometimes,” he continued. “Not that it’s a bad thing—it gives you fire. It’s just that when it happens, you don’t listen to anyone.”
Fiore frowned, the weight of his words settling in. She doesn’t listen when she’s emotional. It made her realize, with a start, that she was
