Lucien didn’t let go of my hand.
Not even as we reached the bottom of the staircase.
His grip wasn’t possessive.
It was reassuring.
As if he wanted everyone in the room to know exactly where I belonged.
A woman stood in the middle of the foyer.
She was elegant, impeccably dressed in a cream pantsuit, with diamond earrings that caught the light.
She looked to be in her early fifties.
Beautiful.
Intimidating.
And furious.
The moment her eyes landed on our joined hands, her lips curled into a smile that held no warmth.
“So…”
She looked me up and down.
“This is the girl.”
Girl.
Not woman.
Not wife.
Girl.
“I’m Sienna.”
“I know who you are.”
Her tone was clipped.
“I’ve read your file.”
Lucien’s hand tightened around mine.
“Aunt Helena.”
His voice was icy.
“You weren’t i
