"Shina… you, you are indeed a great actor."
The thought slithered across Aiden's mind as he caught her once more from the corner of his vision—the slim waist, the trembling lips, the tears that shimmered in candlelight like dew on glass.
Her face wore sorrow like a veil, fragile, convincing, yet her spirit sang a different hymn.
Beneath the performance he tasted excitement, a raw pulse of desire that betrayed her every practiced gesture.
His lips curved, but he forced his gaze away. Not now. Not yet.
He drew a breath, steadying the storm within him, and turned his attention to the Baron.
"Baron… would you please," Aiden said softly, gesturing with a slight tilt of his head, leading him toward a quieter corner.
The older man followed, his steps slow, unsteady, as if every pace weighed tenfold more than it should.
His eyes were vacant, emptied wells of grief. Despair clung to him like mildew to stone, rancid and inescapable.
