The dining hall gleamed with candlelight and crystal, a display of wealth and power meant to mask the war gnawing at the city. Adriana sat between her father and Luca, her posture perfect, her smile carefully painted on like porcelain.
But inside, she was shaking.
Every time she blinked, she felt Damian’s touch on her skin, heard his vow echoing in her mind. Every rose in the garden seemed to whisper his name. And every lie she told her family widened the rift inside her chest.
Tonight, it showed.
“Adriana,” Luca said suddenly, his voice cutting through the hum of conversation. His hand covered hers on the table, his grip just a shade too tight. “You’ve been quiet. Distracted.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her, wine-dark and suspicious. “Something weighs on you.”
Her smile faltered
