“May they at least be handsome.”
We sip, arm in arm, and move through the main hall like debutantes on the way to trouble. The music fades slightly behind us, and the sound of our heels on the marble floors feels theatrical.
Where is my husband?
The butler is waiting at the end of the corridor, near the grand double doors.
I squeeze Dale’s hand, still smiling.
But my stomach tightens.
We reach the front hall, and the music dulls behind us, replaced by the softer clatter of glassware and the distant hum of conversation bleeding in from the ballroom. The marble here reflects the chandeliers like liquid gold, and the scent of rosewater from the entry arrangements hangs thick in the air.
Dale and I pause a few steps from the door, finishing what’s left in our flutes.
She tilts her head toward me, eyes sharp behind her lashes. “Where is your husband, anyway?”
I laugh softly, but it’s not real. “I was hoping you knew.”
She takes another gulp, watching me. “You’re glowing like a woman in love. Or a woman about to be sacrificed.”
“Maybe both,” I say.
She leans in suddenly, unexpectedly close, her face just inches from mine. I don’t flinch.
Her fingertip comes up and gently traces the edge of my bottom lip. “Lipstick.”
I swallow.
She wipes the smudge away with practiced ease, her touch cool and precise, then leans back, tilting her head to admire the correction. “There. Perfect again.”
Her smile returns, and I can’t help but giggle and mirror it.
She takes my glass and hands the butler our empty flutes and gestures toward the door.
“Shall we greet your mystery guest before the boys start burning the estate down?”
I nod, slow and composed, but I feel the flutter in my chest like a warning bell.
We walk forward together, side by side, as the butler reaches for the door.
But there’s no guest.
There's only a box.
A pristine white square, maybe twelve inches wide, resting perfectly centered on the top step. Wrapped in a black satin bow that gleams under the chandelier's light, which pours out from the front double doors.
I step forward slowly, the air outside cool against my skin, and glance down at it. It doesn’t have a card. No label.
I glance back at the butler. “Who left this?”
His brow furrows. “There was a man here moments ago asking for you, but there was no box at the time. The cameras didn’t catch it being left. It wasn’t here just moments ago.”
My throat tightens. Dale steps beside me, her mouth dropped open a bit wide.
“What the fuck?” she says. “Did Hayden leave this for you?”
I shake my head, eyes still locked on the box. “He would have told me.”
