Aria POV
Every instinct told me to refuse.
To walk away.
To tell Beatrice Devereux that I had nothing to discuss with her.
But the look in her eyes made one thing clear.
If I refused today, she would simply find another way.
Another place.
Another time.
So I followed her.
A black luxury car waited outside the bistro. The driver opened the rear door without a word.
The entire ride was silent.
Beatrice sat across from me, perfectly composed, her attention focused on the city passing by the window.
As though I wasn't even there.
Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of an exclusive private club.
The kind of place where people like me would never be allowed through the front door.
I suddenly felt very small.
Beatrice noticed.
Good.
That was probably the point.
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