amily home. "Alex Vance" sat opposite me, occasionally glancing up from his tablet, his expression unreadable. The flight to the Pacific coast was lo

of a dark fairy tale. Instead, it was a marvel of modern architecture, all glass and clean lines, perched precariousl

y breathtaking views of the ocean. The silence was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of technol

me as "Miss Covington," their voices polite but devoid of warmth. I was shown to a suite of rooms

rne would dine wit

racticed ease. But my own fear, and a stubborn core of defiance, kept interfering. How do you prepar

ndow looking out at the crashing waves. The table was set f

y nerves st

ian Thorn

ies, tall, with an intensity in his dark eyes that was unnerving. He moved with a qui

ight inclination of his head

was deep

naged, trying to k

iley' s" interests, her life. I answered as best I could, sticking to the script my family

It felt like he could see right through me, thr

tter, her obsession with social events and de

what are your passions, Miss Co

your" was subtle,

the kind that involved more photo ops than actual work. "I' m very invol

a smile that didn' t reac

felt like an imposter, a fra

ke an eternity, Thorne plac

nce. "Alex, you

e, and left the r

me and Julian Th

a long moment, h

voice calm, "The ch