She stood, turned, and walked away.
Dorian was seething—angry, dissatisfied. The fragile thread that had been holding them together had just snapped.
“Mr. Gray, is everything all right?” Taylor’s voice cut in as he approached. “Your room is ready.”
Dorian’s eyes flashed amber. The butler noticed, but betrayed nothing.
“Thank you, Taylor, but there’s no need anymore. We’re going back.”
“How did you find the wine? It’s perfect for a first date—relaxing in just the right measure, leaving a sweet aftertaste.”
Dorian took a slow sip, tasting it. But all he could feel was the bitter tang of crushed expectations. He wasn’t ready to surrender without a fight. In both war and love, every weapon was fair.
“Taylor, ask Annette to check if Miss Clark needs anything.”
“Yes, Mr. Gray.” The butle
