Bad

Evelyn did not move. She could not even blink. She stood there, frozen in place, unable to tear her gaze away from the man who had occupied her thoughts for the past few days.

Michael.

The man who had promised to fetch her, the man whose absence she had excused and justified with every logical reason she could think of, now stood before her—escorting another woman.

A woman draped in an opulent gown of shimmering silver, her every movement fluid, as though she had been sculpted by the gods themselves. Her hand rested delicately on Michael’s arm, fingers curling around his sleeve with the kind of ease and familiarity that twisted something deep inside Evelyn’s chest.

She had thought… no, she had assumed that he was simply caught up with his responsibilities. That something important had demanded his attention, pulling him away from their planned meeting.

But this?

This was not duty.

This was not work.

This was Michael, dressed in a sharply tailored black suit, exuding an effortless eleg