The gala was on Friday evening.The estate had been preparing since Wednesday, staff she hadn't seen before arriving, the main reception rooms rearranged, the dining room extended into the adjacent salon. Damien had done this deliberately. Not in the Blackthorn name alone but in the company's name, the first formal event hosted since the accident, and the invitations had been accepted at a rate that told her the room on Friday would be full of people who wanted to see what Damien Blackthorn looked like when he wasn't being managed.She wore dark green.At seven the guests began arriving.She stood at the top of the main staircase and watched them come in. Damien was at the bottom receiving them. She watched him work the room from above, the handshakes, the positioned attention, the way he made each person feel specifically waited for. She had watched him do this for months from the secondary chair. From the top of the stairs it looked different. Bigger, somehow. More apparent what he
آخر تحديث : 2026-05-21 اقرأ المزيد