False Fates
“Was that worth ten thousand dollars?”
His gaze sharpened. “You’re cautious now. You weren’t on stage.”
“I was performing on stage.”
“Are you not performing now?”
She paused. “Not for you.”
That made him smirk—genuine and amused. “Good. I don’t like lies dressed in lipstick. I like truth… even when it cuts.”
She remained by the door, not crossing the threshold of intimacy his words invited.
“Then what truth are you buying tonight?” she asked.
He set down his glass. “That you’re not just beautiful. You’re something rare. Most girls are firecrackers—loud, quick, forgettable. But you, Aurora… you burn slow. And men remember slow burns.”
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