CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
MELINDA'S POV
The guests finally left around eleven, their laughter and polite goodbyes echoing through the foyer as Kieran walked them out. I stood in the dining room staring at the remains of the evening, crystal glasses still half full of wine, plates scattered with crumbs from dessert, the white roses already starting to wilt in their expensive vases.
My hands were shaking so badly I had to press them flat against the table to make them stop.
Don Ricci had nearly exposed me. One story about a gala I'd never attended, one memory of Belinda in a gold dress I'd never worn, and the whole carefully constructed lie could have crumbled right there over the main course. If Kieran hadn't squeezed my knee under the table, if Lucia hadn't laughed and changed the subject, if
