The words hit home. Eve saw it in the flash of anger in Isabella's eyes.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Eve leaned forward. "You said you've loved Dimitri since you were nine. But have you ever actually talked to him? Not about business or alliances or strategy, i'm talking about real things. His mother. His nightmares. The birds she taught him to name. The guilt he carries. The way he takes his coffee or the small changes he's made since I came into his life."
Isabella said nothing.
"You don't know him," Eve said gently. "You know the idea of him. The power. The position. But you don't know the man who cried when I told him I loved him. The man who sits awake at three AM watching me sleep like he's afraid I'll disappear. The man who's learning how to love for the first time in his life."
"He told you about his mother." Isabella's voice was flat.
"Everything. About Claire. About what happened. About why he's terrified of loving me."
