His gaze was trained on her with an intensity that made her body warm from the inside out.
"Well?" she asked.
"I'm sorry, Sofia, for being a dick."
"Apology accepted," she said and looked down. "I'm so sorry about Claire. I knew it would hurt you."
"No worries." His aloof response made her look up. His gaze was wary and moving, and he was guarded once more. Even after thousands of years he was reliving the pain of his brother's death. If she closed her eyes, she'd see the home video of Darian's funeral pile. Her heart went out to him. "I think I'd known for a long time and didn't want to face it. I probably could have gone much longer ignoring her."
"She would have killed you."
"She would have tried."
"You can risk your life, but I won't," Sofia retorted.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you cared."
"I do care about you, Damian, even though you're a total jackass," she said.
"For the record, you're the only person in history who could get away with half the shit you say," he told her.
"I know."
The warmth of his smile was not lost on her, and she thought about what Linda had said about him. Maybe the cheerful woman was right-maybe there was more to Damian than she gave him credit for.
"D." It was Lon, whose gaze went to her as he approached.
"Morning, Lon," Damian said and twisted to face the Guardian.
"Guess I lost that bet," he muttered. "She's okay and says thanks. The doc can't figure out what happened. He should release her today."
"Glad I could help."
"Rainy would have come, but he won't leave her side. Poor sap."
"No worries. How's Linda?" Damian asked.
"Good. Still won't let me live down almost dying." His gaze went to her and then back to Damian expectantly. Damian ignored his hint, and Lon didn't press.
"Women are stubborn like that," Damian said.
"See you at the next barbecue?" Lon asked, holding out his hand.
"Wouldn't miss it," Damian said and stood to shake his hand.
"Linda says you can call her whenever you want," Lon said, handing Sofia a tissue with a phone number and smiley face written on it.
"Thanks." She watched him go then turned to her bodyguard. "Pierre, you want my croissant?"
"I do," Damian said and snatched the pastry.
"It's because I'm French, isn't it? You assume we French all eat croissants," Pierre complained.
"This is sooooo good," Damian said, pinning her with a look as he wolfed down the second half.
"Just when I start to like you … you know, it's amazing even a man who's thousands of years old can act like a twelve-year-old. Pierre. Car. Now." She glared at him. Furious, she stood and breezed past him, not surprised when he opted not to ride home with her.