Jeon’s hand shifted slightly at his side, but he didn't interrupt her.

“I should make it clear for you,” she said, “you are not getting anything from here.”

For a moment, nothing changed, then that small smile appeared. It settled across his face as his eyes moved over hers, then lower, then back again, her eyes, her lips, taking in the shape of her features as if he was memorising them. “It’s almost unfair,” he said, his voice lower now, but no less steady, “that you think you have me all figured out while I’m still trying to understand things. Would you blame me for wanting this?”

He didn’t accept her reading of him, he didn’t deny it either, stayed exactly where he was.

“You don’t even know what you want,” she said. “You’re young, arrogant, reckless, impatient, impulsive.” Her eyes moved briefly to his lips, then back to his eyes. “And a bad kisser when you’re conflicted.”

This time, there was a clear shift in him. It was small, but it was there. “I’m quite conflicted right now, Ms. Corsi,” he said as he stepped even closer until there was almost no space left between them. She didn’t move back. The edge of his blazer brushed her upper arm. Verena could smell the mix of perfumes on him, his own scent, faint and spicy, mixed with the softer, sweeter scents of the women who had been touching him. “Should I prove your last statement wrong?”