It was courtesy in appearance only—a perfectly crafted lure, a gilded hook lowered straight into my quiet, guarded room.
That single phrase, geological interest, landed heavy and deliberate in the stillness.
Mutual interest.
Silas Gray knew.
My fingers tightened around the moonstone clutched in my palm. Its cool, smooth surface offered no real protection, not against the faint heat of unease prickling under my skin. Refusal was never an option. Not as Damian Wolfhart’s wife, and certainly not after I’d pulled off an impossible miracle right beneath Silas’s watchful eyes.
“Just a moment,” I called out, my voice steady against the flutter of my pulse.
I slipped the moonstone into the pocket of my silk robe, its faint, steady hum pressing soft against my thigh—a quiet, private anchor. A
