"Carrie," Damien said again, his voice serious, his grip tightening on her wrist. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll..."
The grip was not harsh, but insistent, like he was trying to hold her together by force. The ballroom spun with movement around them. Strings swelled from the orchestra. Laughter rippled through clusters of donors and power brokers. Carrie felt the weight of Damien’s eyes searching her face, trying to read every crack she thought she had sealed.
"You'll what?" Carrie snapped softly, her tone clipped.
She kept her chin lifted, refusing to let anything tremble. Damien looked stunned for a moment. He was used to her icy tone around CEOs and pushy clients, not aimed at him. He blinked and recovered, theatrically clearing his throat.
"I'll assume you and Lorenzo
