Sylvia didn't believe, truly didn't believe, that her life had reached a point where she would be escorted through the gates of one of the most beautiful palaces in Alamina into a gala so expensive it probably had its own economic impact to watch her best friend celebrate an engagement with a crown prince.
A second gala.
Because apparently Dean's life was now a sequence of events designed to test Sylvia's blood pressure and Dean's ability to remain a person under public scrutiny.
She arrived with a palace escort and the kind of temporary guest clearance that came with too many signatures. The corridors were bright and quiet, polished stone and glass; security was so discreet it felt like the walls had eyes. Even the air smelled curated clean, expensive, and slightly floral.
And then there was the package.
