His eyes met mine, and a smile tugged at his lips. Not the wide, boyish grin that had once stolen my breath, but the small, practiced smile of a man who knew the effect he had on people. A smile that had once made me believe in fairy tales. Now, it made my stomach churn.
"Zahra," he said, rising to his feet with a fluid grace that spoke of control. He gestured to the chair across from him, pulling it out. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"I don't need your chivalry," I replied, my voice colder than I intended. I brushed past him and sat down, my hands gripping the edge of the table to keep them steady. "Say what you need to say, Ali. I don't have time for games."
For a brief moment, his smile faltered. Just a flicker, gone as quickly as it appeared, but I caught it. It was satisfying in a way I couldn't explain.
"Still as fiery as ever," he said as he lowered himself into the chair across from me. "I always admired that about you."
