Chapter Two
Brea
“Do you like the dahlias or the orchids?” Regan examined the beautiful flowers selected from her own gardens.
“Does it matter?” Brea refused to play along with the wedding preparations. She tried not to think about the wedding at all. Now that Myles and Neeve were safe and beyond Regan’s reach, that was all she cared about.
Regan stood with her hands on her hips, her long hair falling in a mass of white-blond curls to her waist. “Of course, it matters, darling. The wrong flower could throw the whole event off, and your wedding, my dear, will be the event of the century if your Auntie Reagan has anything to say about it.”
Brea would never understand her aunt. She was a madwoman with a queen’s thirst for power and glory, and the mind of a deranged party planner. She was
