Seraphina stepped forward with that controlled calm she always wore like a second skin. Up close the smile didn’t reach her eyes — it was polite, precise, businesslike.
“I appreciate the invitation, Mr. Lucien,” she said, voice cool as glass. “But tonight I’ll be having a meal alone — with Darren and his spouse. Perhaps next time I can dine with the Delacroix family.”
The words landed like a measured cut. Lucien’s hand tightened on his cane until the knuckles whitened. For a man used to setting the room’s temperature with a look, this was a temperature drop he hadn’t expected. I watched him shrink a fraction, the practiced façade falter. Humiliation is a subtle thing; it rearranges a man’s shoulders. Lucien’s shifted and, for a heartbeat, he looked almost small.
Maya didn’t hesitate. Sh
