Lindsay Duncan Nude Novels & Stories

That agony that once tore me apart was stripped away and reshaped, stroke by stroke, until it became the silent works hanging on the walls. Renee sent me a text. "Congratulations to our great artist! Have a few extra glasses for me!" Just after I replied to her, a familiar figure that appeared at the entrance instantly drew everyone's gaze. It was Landon. Dressed in a perfectly tailored dray grey trench coat, he moved through the crowd straight toward me, carrying a bouquet of irises. "I hope you don't mind me showing up uninvited, Ms. Holden," he said, handing me the flowers. Mom and Dad were visibly curious.

The one who broke the silence. Lucas whispers in my ear: — The hyenas have caught the scent. — I know. I don’t smile. I don’t pretend to be comfortable. I am here to disturb. A waiter offers champagne. I refuse. Lucas takes a flute, just for show. His gaze scans the room. He is in protection mode, as always when he senses a trap. Then I see her: Cassandre. An icy silhouette in an ivory dress. Not a single strand out of place. Not a wrinkle on her mask. On her arm, a man I don’t know. Legal, no doubt. Or strategic. Maybe just decorative.