The Hidden Heiress Returns
Kingsley’s hand settled at the small of my back the second we crossed the threshold.
Not possessive enough to be vulgar nor casual enough to be accidental.
It was proprietary.
My spine stiffened instinctively, but I didn’t dare pull away, cameras were everywhere, hidden and obvious, lenses catching reflections in polished surfaces. This wasn’t just shopping.
This was a theater.
I leaned into him slightly, letting my shoulder brush his chest, my smile sharp and practiced. I could play this role in my sleep. The cold heiress, the untouchable fiancée. My blue eyes were bright with a joy that never quite reached them.