Grayson leaned against the balcony railing, arms crossed, watching Vivienne move about the kitchen. She hummed softly, arranging ingredients with effortless grace, completely absorbed in her little world. Every tilt of her head, every precise movement made his chest tighten in a way he refused to acknowledge.
Stop it. This doesn't mean anything. She's just… here. I don't feel anything, he muttered under his breath.
But every laugh, every soft hum, every flicker of joy pulled at him. When her phone pinged with a casual message from Julian, a flash of jealousy twisted inside him. Julian? Really? It shouldn't matter…
He shook his head violently, turning away from the balcony. Desire, irritation, protectiveness — all mixed together, and he hated himself for feeling any of it. I can ignore it. I will ignore it. She's just living her life.