A malicious laugh escaped from Loki's mouth. "Did I get to you?"
Casually, he rose to his feet. As he continued to speak to Wanda, he took gradual steps closer, until he was right up against the window, never once breaking eye contact with her.
"Initially, I wanted only information. On the state of magic in Midgard. About SHIELD. But then I realized what great fun it would be to break you, and like simpering fool, you fell." He then mocked Wanda by imitating her pathetic, sobbing cries, "Oh! My children! My children!" The evil expression returned, his eyes flickering briefly to where Thor stood, listening. "Had I a few more days, I would've have reduced you to a screaming lunatic, your powers running amok. Oh, but that wasn't all. It was a pleasure taking advantage of you, legs spread open wide. Such a good fuck, and all the while, I was fucking your mind." He laughed again. "Feeble, pathetic, insignificant... you truly believed I loved you."
There was absolutely nothing in his demeanor or voice that might indicate anything different, and that was how Loki needed it to be: he had to deny everything about Wanda, including the lingering attachments he still had for her. To deny it to Wanda's face, before his aggravating brother, Thor, and and mostly to himself.