Chapter 113

From the moment he entered, Owen had remained calm and impassive, quietly sipping his tea. No matter how alluring or captivating the woman on stage was—her every move designed to entice—he didn't so much as bat an eye. Damian shook his head, stifling a laugh. It was just like Eric had said—Owen was the ultimate picture of detachment, utterly unmoved by even the most sophisticated of temptations. To him, such efforts were as dull as plain water—lacking flavor or interest. "You really are something else," Damian said, a hint of teasing in his voice. "I guess you're the one guy on Earth who'll never have to worry about getting caught up in some messy love drama." Owen didn't respond, but the ghost of a memory flickered through his mind. He could almost see her—the slender figure with sharp, refined features. She carried herself with an air of defiance and wisdom, yet she was always so precise, so serious. She never pretended to be anything she wasn't. The auction hall below su