Twisted Fate
“Enough.”
We both turned to him. He stepped closer, his presence pulling at me like gravity. “Aria is working for Andrea Moretti,” he said evenly. “She’s Andrea’s new stylist.”
The name hit me like a splash of cold water. “Andrea Moretti?”
As if summoned, Andrea appeared. She was breathtaking, all sharp cheekbones and effortless elegance, her designer gown catching the light as she moved. She slipped her arm through Aleksander’s with the ease of someone who belonged there, her gaze sweeping over me with polite, icy disinterest.
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