The moment Angel turned her head toward Arthur once more, her breath caught in her throat.
She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief, as if she no longer recognized the man standing before her.
His expression was unnervingly unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—a shadow of madness—that made her blood run cold.
In that instant, he no longer seemed like the Arthur she knew.
No, he looked like a complete psychopath.
A shudder ran through her, though she forced herself to maintain a mask of confidence, her lips pressing together as she locked eyes with him.
But then, in a chilling contrast to the heavy tension in the air, Arthur chuckled—low, rich, and disturbingly amused.
His hand reached for her cheek, his fingers grazing her skin with deceptive gentleness, and then he tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting into something that almost seemed… apologetic.
