pte
Before
m. The morning of her wedding should have been filled with excitement, joy, maybe nerves. But for Camille, it stirred ghosts. Her reflection in the antique glass didn't show the radiant bride-to-be. It showed a woman who was about to be caught between two lives she
a trench coat over fishnet tights. She had just performed as "Lola Rowe," her alter ego-mysteriou
sleeves rolled up. The sight of her had startled him-and then intrigued him. The brick heard h
with curious eyes. "And you look like
unexpected, poetic li
another silver spoon prodigy. She told him she was a lounge singer, nothing more. He didn't ask questions like most men do. There was no hunger to pin her down, just a fasc
ed in slices and s
ed by paper. They fell in love for the first time in Ethan's downtown loft. There was no script. It wasn't roses or champagne. It was intuitive. After a lengthy performance at the Red Veil, she had r
dark. They spoke very little. He kissed her as though he were afraid he would forget how. She slowly undressed while keeping an eye on him as she unhooked the dress's strap. There was a rawness to it-no performance, no seduction m
't have to keep secrets with me." She just did. She needed to. Camille was unable to simply leave the past. It clung to her in the form of unpaid de
d, strict, and awestruck by Camille's "charm" and "elegance." She came from smoke and secrets, they had no idea. He proposed at the Ridgewell T
want," he said, "bu
. Maybe the lies could fade. Maybe the fire ins
f the engagement ring, which featured a cushion-cut diam
and written in smudged red ink beneath her door: "Lola, is Ethan
shook inside. Tomorrow,
he still belonged
d of the Ward estate. Champagne flutes in hand, polite laughter punctuating the conversations, gues
nt, composed. But her eyes betrayed something else: calculation. Across the courtyard, Ethan Ward leaned into a quiet conversation
Confessions were sparked by something about him like moths to a flame. Avery Kent approached Camille from behind, a long-time friend with a wild heart and an even wilder past. "You're doing that look again," she said, brushing a strand o
wing up uninvited. His eyes, still knowing and dangerous, met Camille's and held. "You didn't think you could get married without me giving you my blessing, did you?" Jonas said,
e never faltered. "And yet, yo
r change," she rep
ent, alert but not on duty. Camille's name had come up too many times in places it didn't b
rnate, widow to a shipping magnate, and the silent financier behind many of Ethan's ventures. Howev
rime memoirs, had arrived at the last minute. She hadn't spoken to Camille in years. She didn't plan to start tonight. Howe
ickered to life, Dominic Crane disappeared in
you sure you want to go through wit
in and dangerous. "I'm not th
that moment, offeri
took it.
a glass. "To love, and th
toasted
introduced as a guest of Ethan's distant cousin-just another charming face-and is tall, composed, and devastatingly familiar. But Camille goes cold. She knows Dominic. Years ago, in a life she buried be
ille returns to her bridal suite to find a red envelope beneath the door. Inside, a note w
the curtain is lifting, and Dominic's arrival threatens to unravel everything. She thought she could outpace her past
a war zone of satin, curls, and suppressed panic. Her eyes betray a sleepless night. She do
e hotel bar, calm as ever, watching the