Theron exhaled slowly, seated in the garden with a delicate floral tea set arranged before him. A pair of chaperones stood at a respectful distance, while across from him sat Rosalyn, back straight, posture impeccable, as she sipped her tea with unhurried grace.
His jaw tightened.
This woman was a master manipulator. He had come here ready to confront her, ready to speak before she could twist the situation in her favor. Yet somehow, she had delayed him long enough to let him cool, gathered the elders into the conversation, and turned what should have been a direct confrontation into something almost civilized. Almost intimate.
But he had not come here for civility.
He had come to break the engagement.
And because she was a woman, he had been willing to extend that much courtesy.
"The lady must be very busy," he said coolly.
