To Hate and To Hold
“They’re artifacts. Smile and look decorative. It’s what they expect.”
The dismissal stung. “I’m not just decoration.”
“Tonight, you are.” His tone brooked no argument. “Every word you say is a data point they will use. Stick to the script.”
The script was silence and smiles. She sipped champagne she didn’t taste and felt the weight of a hundred gazes. She saw women her mother’s age glance at her with pity or contempt. She saw men Julian’s age look at her with naked appraisal, then share knowing smirks with their companions. The story was already written: Julian Thorne, the ruthless financial titan, has acquired a beautiful, if rustic, trophy. How long will it last?