Fiore’s mind raced as the cool night air sobered her just enough to realize the gravity of the situation. s**t. s**t. s**t, she thought, her heart thudding in her chest. Her stomach churned not just from the alcohol, but from the dread of what she had just done. What irked her most wasn’t just that she had danced with a stranger—it was that Lance had seen her. She was married, for the Goddess’ sake, and she had acted like that.
She snuck a glance at Lance as they walked side by side. His face was calm, but she could sense the simmering tension in him, a restrained storm just beneath the surface. He wasn’t yelling, he wasn’t angry, and that somehow made it worse. Fiore felt her guilt gnawing at her insides.
“Lance, I…” she started, her voice shaky, unsure of how to even begin explaining.
