Chloe quickly turned back to the mannequin, tugging at the fabric as if the gown had offended her. "I guess that's the reason you're obsessed with perfection," she said lightly.
"Am I?" Damian asked with raised brows.
She nodded. "Yeah. You act like one wrong seam will cause the world to implode."
Damian was silent for a beat. Then he said, quietly, "Well, that's because once something's perfect, no one can take it from you."
Her hands stilled on the fabric. She looked up. His eyes weren't on her now — they were somewhere distant, lost in a memory. His jaw was tight, the usual calm cracked at the edges.
"Who took something from you?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He blinked, as if her voice had pulled him back. For a heartbeat, he looked like he might actually answer. Then the shutters came down again.
"Doesn't matter," he said, stepping back. "It was a long time ago."
But Chloe didn't look away. "That's not the same as doesn't matter."
