Rosette’s point of view ~~~
James emerged from the crowd like a well-timed stagehand, his expression tight but practiced.
He went straight to the man still standing in front of me who was tall, mid-forties, the kind of face that was forgettable until you noticed the cut of his suit and the quiet arrogance in his stance.
“Mr. Carson,” James said, voice dripping with polite apology, “please forgive the misunderstanding. It was… a momentary overreaction.”
Momentary overreaction? My eyes flicked to him, then to the stranger, then to Cesare, who still had his arm braced around me like I was some fragile vase.
Mr. Carson gave James a thin smile, though his eyes stayed fixed on me.
“No harm done,” he said, but the tone told me there was harm done—at least to his pride.
Men like him alwa
