He let out a short, mocking breath, a sneer curling his upper lip. The disgust rolling off him was palpable, thick enough to choke the air out of the room.
"Clara Monroe has spent twenty years building a flawless, ironclad reputation for discretion and morality in this city," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a dangerously low whisper that vibrated with absolute contempt. "And her own blood is sneaking into private lounges, letting a drunk, pathetic pig like Leonard Voss paw at her dress in the dark?"
A hot, stinging flush crept up my neck. The judgment in his voice burned, but I had to lean into it. I had to let him believe the worst of Elizabeth, so he wouldn't look for Mara.
"It wasn't... it wasn't what it looked like," I whispered, forcing my eyes to well up with frantic, despera
