Ella arched an eyebrow. "Knowing you, if you wanted to say something, you would. Or if you needed me to make a sacrifice, you'd demand it. But I won't give in so easily."
"Does that mean your son isn't important to you anymore?" Mason studied her closely.
Years had passed, yet this woman remained as composed as ever. Not a trace of panic crossed her face, even for Elias' sake. Perhaps it was just another mask of hers.
Ella looked much the same, though a faint weariness lingered in her features. Her face had filled out slightly, giving her a more refined and regal beauty—cool, poised, and alluring.
Such a woman, Mason thought, was even more captivating now than in her youth.
A restless impulse stirred within him, but what intrigued him more was the thought of what Eric's reaction would be if Ella truly agreed to be with him. Mason longed to see Eric unravel—his rage, despair, and helplessness. His enemy's suffering was his delight.
