Isabeau's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across her refined features like a candle flame in a draft. She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin, studying Kyle with the intensity of a jeweler examining a stone for flaws. He could see the wheels turning behind those honey-dark eyes—calculating, probing, trying to discern if he was a threat or an opportunity. Kyle knew he had to stay cheeky, keep the upper hand even zip-tied to a chair with his fate dangling by a thread. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, deliberately cocky, the kind of expression that said he knew more than he was letting on.
