Chapter 13: Dance
(Caroline's POV)
Adrian Sinclair moved the way old money always did - unhurried, effortless, as though the world had been arranged specifically for his convenience. I watched him lift his champagne glass and found myself cataloguing details without meaning to. The cut of his suit. The quiet authority in his posture. The way he held eye contact without making it feel like a challenge.
I had done my research on him before tonight. Only child. Heir to the entire Sinclair fortune. Educated at Exeter, then Oxford, then Wharton - the full circuit of elite institutions that families like his considered the bare minimum. On paper, he was polished and approachable. But I had been in enough boardrooms to know that the most dangerous men were always the ones who smiled easily.
