Max's POV
The reception hall gleamed with chandeliers and expensive laughter. Every table shimmered under crystal glassware, silver cutlery, and a ridiculous number of floral arrangements that smelled faintly of money and old secrets.
Alissa was already seated when I returned, one hand absently resting on her stomach, the other curled around a champagne flute she had no business holding. She wasn't supposed to drink, but that had never stopped her.
"Took you long enough," she said, her tone dipped in sugar but laced with steel. "Where did you disappear to?"
I slipped into the chair beside her. "Just needed some air."
Her eyes narrowed. "Air or someone?"
"Alissa," I said quietly, warning in my tone. But she only smirked, satisfied she'd gotten under my skin, and took ano
