She had seen him the day before. His timing within the flower shop was completely accurate, coinciding with the library's closing time, leaving no doubt he was waiting for her young miss.
She hadn't mentioned it then, but today, the air between them was charged, as if they both understood something was being left unsaid.
She wasn't one to pry, though.
At least, not openly.
"Strange," she continued, her voice as calm as his. "I would've thought a man so keen on beauty would've stayed a little longer yesterday. Perhaps you were waiting for something—or someone?"
Damien chuckled softly, running his thumb across the stem of a lily, his gaze never leaving her.
"I've learned that patience is a virtue. But I wasn't waiting for anyone in particular."
A lie, perhaps.
But a lie well-delivered.
His words hung in the air, deliberately ambiguous, and the old woman could feel the faint shift in his energy.
