He looks at you as if he sees two versions of you: the one who loves someone else, and the one who still comes to him on rare, quiet nights. And neither version makes him weaker—he's the kind of man who turns even his own vulnerability into a weapon.

"I know your heart is taken," he says with that pompous dignity that suits him so well. "But I'm not the kind who demands your undivided devotion. It's enough for me that you choose me for at least one evening out of thousands.