Lance was acting, and he was frighteningly good at it.
From across the room, I watched him mingle with guests, sip wine, and smile politely. But his eyes? They never left me.
Not even once.
Later that night, after the last guest had finally gone, Lance casually made his way over to me, still holding that same unreadable half-smile.
Without a word, he took my wrist and pulled me into a quiet, dimly lit private room nearby.
"My sweet little sister," he said, his voice low and teasing, "you've been very naughty. Don't you think that deserves a little punishment?"
