Oran paced back and forth now, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling like he'd just sprinted across a field.
"That pathetic bastard," he growled, eyes wild. "That little upstart farmer. What the hell's his name—Isaac. Right. Isaac."
The word left his mouth like it was poison.
"If that bastard hadn't appeared, I would've had Selene dancing around my fingers by now!" he snapped. "We were this close! Then she started acting distant, and cold!"
Oran stopped pacing, his breathing slowing slightly.
He knew everything. The change in Selene showed right after she ordered the Economic Council to leave Isaac alone.
Before that, she had been his.
What he didn't realize—what he'd never realized—was that Selene had never been close to him in the first place.
She'd tolerated him because of her position. She'd always kept a certain distance, and had always spoken with her friendly tone that didn't let him step past her personal boundaries.
