“Just go,” he snapped, his voice low but edged with steel.
Her temper flared. “Fine!” she yelled back, spinning on her heel and storming away.
Anthony didn’t move. His gaze never left the road.
Because until she arrived, nothing else not the party, not the guests, not even family mattered.
A few minutes after Guinevere disappeared into the crowd, a security officer approached Anthony with measured respect.
“Sir, the party is about to start.”
Anthony turned slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, dark with something far more dangerous than irritation.
“Thanks for notifying me,” he said flatly.
He slipped his phone from his pocket and dialed Cleopatra’s number, lifting it to his ear with restrained urgency.
“Sorry, the number you’re trying to call is kindly switched off.”
His jaw tightene
