I woke the next morning with a dull ache behind my eyes and one heel still half hanging off my foot.
For a moment, I had no idea where I was.
Then I recognised the pale walls of my own bedroom, the soft grey curtains I had ordered two days ago, and the black dress draped over the chair like evidence of another woman’s life.
The gala.
Adrian.
The cameras.
His hand at the small of my back.
My stomach flipped as memory returned in pieces.
After the dance, he had barely spoken during the drive back. Calm as ever, unreadable as ever. The city lights had flashed across the inside of the car while I sat beside him, trying to steady the strange energy still moving through me.
When the driver had stopped outside my building, Adrian had looked at me once.
“Come back with me, Luna. Come too
