Chapter Twenty-Four:
Julie's Point of View
I cursed him a thousand times in my head; the bastard calls me a madwoman while I was receiving him with such elegance! But I did not lose my cool; instead, I maintained my calm gaze while examining him scrutinizedly.
My eyes moved slowly toward the golden cane he had rested beside him—the one he thumps on the ground to impose his authority—and I said in a cold, provocative tone:
— "Have you grown so old that you bought a cane to lean on?"
I knew I was hitting a sensitive nerve in his masculinity and pride.
I wanted to make the weapon he flaunts look like a sign of disability and senility, so he would know well, before calling me mad again, that my tongue might be sharper than his golden cane.
His features changed in an instant; the sarcastic smile evaporated, replaced by a sharp gloom.
He knit his brows tightly, and his bronze face contracted until his brown eyes looked like two embers smoldering with silent rage.
