The world tilted.
Giselle stayed where she was, her palms flat against the polished floor, the sting on her cheek still blooming hot and sharp. For a second, all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears, the echo of Mira’s shrill voice ringing through her skull. The humiliation burned worse than the slap itself.
Then a hand caught Mira’s wrist.
“Enough!” The voice echoed through the hall.
Giselle’s head lifted slowly, almost against her will. Enrique?
He stood between her and Mira, tall, solid, his expression carved from stone. His fingers were wrapped tightly around Mira’s wrist, not painful enough to injure, but firm enough to make the message unmistakably clear.
The room had gone utterly silent.
Mira stared at him in disbelief before yanking her hand back violently. “W
