Aiden Pierce's low, resonant voice sounded from above Willow West's head.
Willow West, who already had a grave expression, suddenly stiffened.
Perceptive as he was, Aiden Pierce felt the woman in his arms instantly tense up.
She demurred, "Can I not talk about it?"
"Of course you can!
That's your right. I'll respect it!"
Willow West looked up at Aiden Pierce's obsidian eyes—deep, bright, and filled with an incredible sincerity.
Her heart, which had felt like stagnant water for years, was stirred as if a stone had been tossed into it, sending ripples spreading through her.
Other than Stella Monroe, no one had ever treated Willow West like this.
With complete trust and respect.
The feeling was... subtle.
Seeing that Willow West was silent and still, Aiden Pierce produced a deep-blue velvet box from somewhere and handed it to her.
Willow West's beautiful eyes widened in surprise. "What is this?"
"A gift for you!"
"Why are you giving me a gift?"
