Cecilia's pov
I heard heavy footsteps approaching the dining room, but didn't look up.
Still chewing, I kept my pace deliberately slow, convinced it was just Amara returning from whatever drama she'd stirred up this time.
Mentally, I was already queuing up all the choice words I planned to throw her way.
But instead of Amara's signature entrance--high heels, high drama--two strangers walked in.
British. Obviously. Painfully so.
The man had golden hair and piercing blue eyes, his features so precisely carved it was borderline suspicious.
He was pale as porcelain, like nobility or a vampire. Something about him radiated a quiet, curated sadness. Like a man who owned too many limited-edition fountain pens.
The woman beside him was stunning in a different way--chestnut hair that shimme
