Dorian Bell's Return
The gala sparkled with excess.
Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in soft golden light. Waiters in white gloves floated like ghosts, balancing trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Music from a string quartet drifted over the hush of conversation and the clink of glasses.
Calla stood by the balcony entrance, a vision in emerald. The satin hugged her frame with delicate reverence, the back dipped low, her curls swept to one side. Her hands, however, were clenched around the stem of her glass.
She had seen the guest list. Reviewed the security measures and prepped with Tessa. Cassian had been stoic all evening, speaking with board members, senators, and investors. But Calla could see it in his eyes: he was on edge.
And now she knew why.
Dorian Bell had returned.
