Page 102 of Lured By Shadows

“Actually, I do. For the guest tables, I was thinking of these centerpieces,” I said, pointing. “They blend that flamingo pink with softer coral tones so it stays bright without being overwhelming. And for the outside, I thought we could layer draped fabric with hanging florals. It’d pull everything together, especially if the ceremony’s outdoors.”

Her soft laugh slipped through my explanation, light and easy, but enough to make my stomach tighten anyway. My mind scrambled, trying to figure out what I’d said wrong before she spoke again, her voice carrying a warm, teasing edge.

“You’re quite bold to suggest such lavish designs without asking about the budget first, delicate flower.”

The nickname settled heavily in my ribs, and then the full weight of my mistake crashed down.

The budget.

I hadn’t even thought to mention it. I’d just barreled ahead, assuming they could throw money at anything because that’s how it seemed to work in their world.

“Oh—I’m so sorry,” I blurted, wanting to sink through the floor. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just—I assumed…” I winced. “That’s on me.”

Anna waved a dismissive hand, elegant and unconcerned. “Not to worry,” she said breezily. “We indulge ourselves in this family, and you are part of our family, Ira. So please, choose the most expensive and beautiful ornaments and decorations you can find. I want this wedding to be extravagant, something that sings to the elite and hushes them into awe.”

Part of our family.

“Elites?” I repeated instead, clinging to the safer part of the sentence like a lifeline.

Anna leaned forward, her smile sharpening with knowing mischief. “Oh, you know. The snobby, rich folks in high society who make polite conversation while sharpening knives behind their backs.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s hard being rich, you know. Everyone assumes it’s caviar and champagne, but really, it’s small talk with strangers who smile too much and care too little. People who haven’t touched reality in decades… or ever, really.”

I just looked at her, caught somewhere between nodding sympathetically or cracking a joke about how rough life must be up there. But part of me actually got it in a weird way, even if I’d never set foot in that kind of world. The idea of faking your way through conversations with people who didn’t understand you at all sounded exhausting, fancy outfits or not.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have to worry about that,” I said with a weak laugh, suddenly hyperaware of the canyon between our worlds. Not just money, but upbringing, expectation, power. It felt like the universe had cast us in completely different genres and somehow decided we shared a scene anyway.

Anna’s expression softened instantly, almost protective. She looked up at me, her eyes bright.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, delicate flower. You’re young and radiant. Give yourself time, and you’ll bloom into things you can’t even imagine yet. Don’t ever shrink yourself.”

The certainty in her voice settled deep, carrying an unshakable edge that made it feel less like a possibility and more like something she could already see unfolding. It left me wondering what she saw in me that sparked that kind of belief, but whatever it was, it rooted itself quietly in my chest.

“I’m not really sure what you mean,” I admitted softly, “but… thank you, I guess, for believing in me.”

Sitting across from Anna in a room that looked more like a museum than someone’s home felt unreal. Light filtered through tall windows, catching against glass and polished surfaces and casting warm reflections that made everything seem slightly dreamlike. Talking about designs and colors like I belonged there felt like pushing boundaries, like if I leaned too far into it, someone would tap me on the shoulder and remind me I’d wandered into the wrong life.

But no one did. And Anna really listened.

She nodded and asked thoughtful questions, and the longer we talked, the more the sense of displacement softened into something firmer.

“Hey, Anna?” I asked after a moment, shifting in my seat as a question I’d been circling finally pushed its way out. “Why isn’t Liam here?”

Her smile didn’t falter, but her gaze dipped for just a fraction of a second before she answered, smooth and composed.

“He’s tied up with something important tonight.” She let out a small sigh, resting her chin on her hand. “Oh, that reminds me. How silly of me. He wanted me to send his regards. He would have loved to join us today. He’s such a dreamy fiancé, wouldn’t you agree?”

Dreamy did fit Liam with his flawless face, polished presence, and the kind of look magazines were built around. He almost didn’t seem real, like he’d been styled for public consumption.

Still, I wasn’t about to step into whatever emotional territory that question hinted at.

“I, uh…” I hesitated, then chose the safest answer I could find. “He’s very handsome.”

Anna smiled knowingly, as if she could hear everything I hadn’t said.

“No need to worry, delicate flower.” Her voice softened, turning more intimate as her hand slid over mine again, her thumb brushing my knuckles in a way that was gentle but purposeful. “I’m not the jealous type, so I trust my partner fully.”

The way she said trust, like it was instinct rather than something earned, made my chest tighten. Trust had never been automatic for me. It usually cracked under pressure, bent beneath misunderstandings, or dissolved the moment someone realized I was more complicated than they’d signed up for.

She didn’t even really know me, and yet—