Gideon's expression hardened. The confusion vanished, replaced by a cold, unreadable calm. His dark and piercing eyes fixated on her without blinking.
'So this is what you think,' he muttered inwardly.
The irony burned. All he had wanted was to pull her out of the stressful routine, to give her a brief escape from the tension that had hung upon her. He had thought foolishly that a change of atmosphere might ease her burden, that for a few hours she could forget pressure. He hadn't intended to trouble her.
But her words cut deep, slicing straight through his restraint. Since she believed that of him, then so be it.
He offered no explanation. No defense. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze unyielding and cold.
"Since you know everything, why are you wasting my time?"
Summer stiffened.
"Go and prepare for the party," he continued. "The stylist must have already arrived. We are going to a charity gala."
Charity gala?
