He could look into your eyes and without saying a word assure you that you were the most fascinating woman in the world and call you beautiful in six languages.
He was defeated. Competitive him, who’d spent most of his life perfecting the art of winning. He’d been trounced by a woman. Killed with one look from those hazel eyes.
You had to navigate the path the best you could, try to discern what was right, and then hope mightily for the best.