As Jessica descended the staircase that evening, her fingers clutched a sleek clutch while her other arm held her soft cashmere evening coat. For a fleeting moment, her foot faltered on the next step—not from lack of balance, but the sharp awareness of being seen.
She had hoped to catch Mark before she left for dinner, to see his reaction, to gauge his emotions—but his suite had been empty. Now, her breath caught when she spotted him seated at the far end of the hotel’s corner bar. Their eyes met. His glass hovered midway to his lips, forgotten, as his gaze locked on her. She realized in an instant—he had chosen that exact spot just to see her descend.
Thanks to Erica’s intervention, she knew she looked breathtaking. She’d always taken care with her appearance as Mark’s wife—an expectati
