Chapter 8: Are You Cheating On Me, Regan?

With a forced smile that felt brittle on my lips, I walked to my designated seat at the far end of the table. The vast expanse of mahogany between us felt like an insurmountable distance. We ate in a tense silence, the only sounds were the clinking of silverware against China and the labored breaths I couldn't quite control.

My appetite was nonexistent. But I forced myself to pick at my food. Halfway through the meal, I could feel Regan's gaze burning into me. In the past, I would make any remark designed to draw him into conversation. But tonight, the words wouldn't come. The image of his hand intertwined with Zarina's, the warmth in his eyes that had been absent for far too long, choked the words back down.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Anastasia,"

I ignored him, staring intently at the floral pattern on my plate. The urge to scream, to throw my wine glass across the table, warred with the strange paralysis that gripped me.

Regan cleared his throat again, louder this time. "A