Damian
The dining room was gold-trimmed, silent aside from the polite clinks of silverware and the practiced laughter of politicians and their pedigrees. Madeleine sat beside me, her hand draped casually over my wrist like it had a right to be there. She smiled with precision. Her father told some story about boarding school mischief from decades ago, while her mother nodded dutifully and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a linen. I took a long sip of wine. Madeleine’s parents watched me like hawks in pearls and cufflinks, expecting the fairytale they were promised. So I gave them the show.
Played my role like a seasoned actor.
But when Madeleine reached for my hand again, I didn’t move.
And I didn't smile when she kissed my cheek.
Christmas Party
The estate was overflowing with g
