Abigail Alexander gave the man in the navy suit a brief nod before turning to me. “I’ll be back shortly.” He moved to leave, but I slipped my arm through his, stopping him mid step. He turned back, brows slightly raised in quiet inquiry. I met his gaze, then reached up, my fingers brushing the fine lapel of his suit. “Your collar,” I murmured, smoothing it out carefully. It hadn’t needed fixing, not really. But I wanted a reason to touch him, to steady him in the moments before he walked into the spotlight. I let my fingertips linger for a second longer than necessary before meeting his eyes again. “Now you can go.” A small, private smile curved my lips, and something flickered in his expression, and then it was gone too quickly to pin down. His lips curved at the edges, not quite a full smile, and with a faint incline of his head, he slipped out of my grasp and walked away, the man in the suit leading him through the crowd. The moment he was gone, I was left with Abel Rudd. “G
Abigail The air outside was warm with candlelight and music, a gentle hum of conversation weaving through the night. I could feel Alexander’s presence beside me, solid, and imposing,and yet, somehow, all eyes were on me. I didn’t need to glance around to know. I felt their gazes like pinpricks against my skin. Whispers stirred as we stepped onto the terrace, the stone beneath my heels clicking lightly with each step, my hand poised elegantly on Alexander’s arm. I smiled, calm and gracious, as if I belonged to this glittering world and had never left it. In truth, my stomach fluttered. Nerves rippled just under the surface of my skin, but I kept them on a tight leash. I had rehearsed this entrance in my mind a dozen times, calculated every gesture, and every glance. I swept my gaze slowly across the yard, my eyes grazing over shimmery gowns, slick tuxedos, and glinting champagne flutes. Every face turned toward us and every breath seemed to pause. Even from across the expanse of t
Marceline One hour agoThe champagne stung slightly as it slid down my throat, but I welcomed the burn. It was sharp, dry, and expensive, just the way I liked it. I licked a trace of it off my bottom lip and set the empty flute down on a server’s tray in favor of a fresh one. My eyes slid sideways toward the man beside me; Judge Jeremiah Foundling. He had long since retired but still wielded influence over more than a few key courtrooms. He was saying something about the city’s ongoing ethics scandals. I nodded politely, adding a soft, "Mm, dreadful," as if I cared. I didn’t.I cared more about his daughter, that perfectly poised little thing with bright eyes and a law degree from Oxford, clearly eager to impress and, more importantly, eager to marry up. If she was here tonight and she must be, surely, then perhaps I should point her toward Conrad. A bright, beautiful little thing like her might keep him pliable and easier to manage when he believed he was in control. She was just h
Alexander The moment we stepped into the venue, I could feel the weight of every gaze turning toward us, a combination of q thousand curious, glittering eyes and murmurs that dipped and rippled through the crowd like a current. The soft clink of glassware stuttered, laughter paused and heads tilted. It was subtle, but unmistakable; that hush that always followed an entrance that disrupted the tempo of the room. I wasn’t surprised. I had expected it, hoped for it, even. Not simply because I was a Remington or because it had been months since I last showed my face at a social function, but because this time, I hadn’t come alone, I had come with my wife. Or rather, the woman the world believed to be my wife. Abigail’s arm was looped through mine, her posture straight, but I felt the shift in her body, the stiffness that bled into her spine and shoulder as the sea of attention swept toward us. Her gaze was taking in everything: the chandeliers, the ruby draped walls, the elegant swarm
AbigailThe movement was unceremonious, almost casual, but it hit me with the force of something tender and deliberate. My breath hitched. Before I could say anything, he pulled a dusty pink shoebox from the shopping bag and opened it, lifting the lid with the kind of care most people reserved for priceless heirlooms.Inside was a pair of classic nude pumps that were sleek and pointed, stunning in their simplicity. I stared. The color, the arch, the very sheen, every detail felt like it had been picked with great care, with me specifically in mind. This was something he had done himself, not delegated.He glanced up, catching my reaction.“You like them?” he asked.I looked back at him, a little breathless. &ldquo
AbigailIt would have been a lie to say I wasn’t nervous, so I didn’t bother pretending otherwise. I sat at the chair beside my vanity table, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, and stared at the gown laid out in front of me, its satin fabric glinting faintly under the bedroom lights. A shiver rippled through me, not from cold, but from the weight of everything this night was going to mean. The truth was, it wasn’t the risk of being discovered that had my heart in my throat. I had already died once; what more could they do to me?No, what terrified me was how badly I wanted this to work. How deeply I wanted to strike the right blow against Marceline, and now, Casillas too. I left the chair and moved to my bed. My fingers moved lightly over the hem of the gown where it lay across the bed, the sapling green color soft beneath my fingertips. The