(Emma's POV)
The Blackwood dining room was a testament to old money and refined taste.
I sat stiffly in my chair, hyper-aware of Alexander beside me. The yellow dress he'd given me felt suddenly too bright, too attention-grabbing. Across from us sat Derek Blackwood, Alexander's father—a distinguished man in his sixties with silver-streaked dark hair and the same piercing gray eyes as his son.
At the head of the table was Vincent Blackwood, Alexander's grandfather. Despite being well into his eighties, Vincent radiated power and authority. His back was ramrod straight, his gaze sharp and assessing as it occasionally landed on me. I tried not to fidget under his scrutiny.
A place remained empty at the table. The fifth setting, I assumed, was for Nathan Cross—Alexander's cousin and, unfor
