That single "Mm" was so faint, so whisper-soft, that anyone not utterly focused would have missed it entirely.
But the three people in the room were all hanging on whatever answer might fall from Elias Kane's lips, their attention riveted to him. There was no chance they would overlook it.
The instant that tiny syllable reached Giselle Frost's ears, her body gave a light, involuntary tremor—like stepping off solid ground and plunging straight into an ice-choked river in the dead of winter. The cold hit her from the inside out, freezing every inch of her.
It wasn't the humiliation of losing face in front of Serena Blackwood. It was something far worse.
She had reached for him again, and he had rejected her again—exactly the way he had when Liora Voss nearly pulled him out of the university. The same nauseating wave crashed over her. Giselle felt as if her fingers had brushed something filthy, a skin that hid a soul so cowardly it was repulsive, hateful.
