The scent of roasted rosemary lamb and truffle-infused canapés hung in the air of the Washington mansion, a fragrant veil over the quiet tension beating with a strong, regular rhythm beneath my skin.
A month. It had been a month since the traumatizing experience of seeing Pascal being wheeled away on a stretcher. Now, he was home, standing alive, whole, and healthy in their billionaire mansion, ready for the welcome-home party organized by Mr. and Mrs. Washington, his parents.
And I, his supposed devoted fiancee, was about to shatter his world. I just had to get through this party first.
“Smile, Millie,” Becky murmured, linking her arm with mine as we watched Pascal from across the grand living room. “He’s looking at you.”
My heart did a complicated, ugly little twist. It wasn’t all pi
