The moment feels surreal, like stepping into a story too far-fetched to be real. A lord. Of all the things I expected tonight, that revelation wasn’t one of them. My heart races as the elevator doors close behind us, shutting out the blinding flashes of the cameras. But their lingering presence outside gnaws at me.
“Why are they here?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intended. “What’s the point of inviting the paparazzi?”
Armani turns to me with a practiced smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s all part of the package,” he says smoothly, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.
I step away from his arm, suddenly aware of how close we were. His touch is steady, grounding even, but I can’t let myself be distracted by it. I press my back against the elevator wall, crossin
