Meera’s POV
The email had come three days ago: an invitation from one of the senior partners at the firm to attend a charity ball hosted by the Bar Association. It wasn’t optional. I was expected to be there, not just as an associate but as someone who had argued one of our more public cases.
Normally, I would have told Damien. But the thought of asking him made my stomach twist. He hated it when I went to events without him. He always found a way to come along, or worse, to forbid me entirely.
So, I didn’t tell him.
I told him I had a “late drafting session” at the office, kissed his cheek, and slipped into the car I had ordered myself. My heart hammered the entire drive, equal parts guilt and thrill.
The charity ball was at one of those old London halls, grand with marble staircases
