The ballroom had dimmed, though the glitter of champagne and shallow laughter still clung to the air like smoke.
When Damien led Celeste back through the massive gold-trimmed doors, the whole room practically froze at the sight of them.
Celeste didn’t miss the stares, or the way Veronica Hale stood at the edge of the dance floor, eyes gleaming like a predator who thought she’d already won.
Damien's hand on her lower back was steady, and commanding but Celeste’s spine was rigid.
She wasn’t ready to pretend, not after what she had seen.
Just minutes ago, in a shadowed hallway off the ballroom, she had seen Veronica corner Damien.
Had seen Veronica’s hand brush his chest.
Had seen Damien lean slightly in, saying something Celeste couldn’t hear. Something that looked too damn familiar.
