She said the 'good news' like she already knew how I'd react. Like she'd spent hours rehearsing how it would land. And I… I had no idea what to expect.
I slipped out of the room before Camilla could rope me into another superstition meltdown, and leaned back against the hallway wall, sucking in air like I'd just escaped a minefield.
Good news, she said.
There was no good news coming out of that woman's mouth unless it involved her spontaneously relocating to another continent.
And yet, I'd smiled. I'd hugged. I'd fake-swooned and charmed the designers so hard they looked ready to embroider me into the hemline.
I was the perfect fiancé.
And now I was stuck outside the lion's den, waiting to find out if I'd just smiled my way into a trap.
.
.
I'd been out there five minutes, maybe ten. Anyway, it was long enough for the glossy marble wall behind me to leave a permanent imprint on my back and for my jaw to start locking from clenching it so damn tight.
