Martin leaned in, lips barely brushing her ear. "We’re making a scene."
"That wasn’t the plan," she whispered back.
"It’s the dress. And you. And of course me."
Their table was near the front—close to donors, influencers, and foundation board members.
Loretta’s eyes caught on the familiar banner for the orphanage her mother had supported for years. It was small and easy to miss, but it hit her harder than she expected.
Despite everything, her mother had cared. She always cared for people to the extent of forgetting her own self.
Martin’s fingers brushed hers under the table, just a graze. She squeezed his hand letting him know that she would be okay.
Everything was going well, until she showed up.
Tall. Elegant. Dripping in red silk and diamonds. Her walk was an act of seduction.
