The atmosphere within the Mandarin Oriental Salon curdled instantly, the golden warmth of the Versailles Style chandeliers suddenly feeling like the harsh glare of an interrogation room. Dame Beatrice remained perched upon her velvet throne, her sharp, hawk-like eyes shifting slowly between the confident, posturing Warren West and the pale, rigid figure of Serena Montgomery.
As the silence stretched, the expressions of the gathered Montgomery Clan shifted from shock to a cruel, collective amusement. In their eyes, Liam Livingston was a non-entity, a ghost haunting the halls of the Montgomery Estate who possessed less social currency than a stray dog. To them, the idea of Warren West—the scion of a local empire—openly coveting a married woman wasn't a scandal; it was a long-overdue correct
