All his teenage years, the girls had told him that they liked him, that he had a good personality, and he had believed them so many times. Hell, one had told him that she was just after his family’s money, and that was perfectly fine with him because he could believe that.
But they were all just screwing around with him.
Now, however, he watched the women he dated, and sooner or later, every one of them proved that they only wanted something from him, whether it was notoriety or money or travel.
There was never any genuine emotion.
If Rox did steal into his room after midnight, she would eventually turn out to be like all the others, not the paragon of virtue and sweetness that he found whenever they worked or traveled or spoke together.
The suspicion that Rox might be different, might actually have feelings for him, faded away.
No one could fool Casimir anymore.
