“She was suddenly aware of him in a way she hadn't been before. Hayward was good-looking in a sweet and wholesome way.”

“But this was fancy; she was succumbing to fancy in a way she hadn't done before.”

“She hadn't been hurt in any real way, had she? No one had treated her badly. I must just be overly sensitive to things, she convinced herself.”

“She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.”

“Mikhail truly liked Ansel-that much was obvious. he always found excuses to touch her, always smiled at her, always looked at her as if she were the only person in the room. Celeana sloshed her wine around in her glass. If she were being honest, sometimes she thought Sam looked at her that way. But then he'd go and say something absurd, or try to undermine her, and she'd chide herself for even thinking about him. Her stomach tightened. What had Arobynn done to him that night? She should have inquired after him. But in the day's after him, she's been so busy, wrapped up in her rage... She hadn't dared look for him, actually. Because if Arobynn had hurt Sam the way he'd hurt her... Celeana drained the rest of her wine.”

“Hatter!" She would have hugged him if she hadn't thought he'd be bothered by the dislay of affection. Pterry good timing." Dodge smiled. "A litte sooner and you would've been perfect.”