Page 33 of A Vicious Love

The lie came out bright and cracked.

Emmie’s eyes softened. “No, sweetheart. You’re not.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered, because if I said anything else, the whole night would collapse. “He didn’t mean it. I don’t think he meant it.”

Emmie touched my arm gently. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Yes.

The answer screamed through me.

Yes, please.

But the second I imagined the gossip. The visible split. Jamison’s rage. My mother’s face, with my father’s disappointment. Tomorrow morning the gossip threads would pick it up. Harlan turned female fear into female embarrassment.

My throat tightened.

“I should go back.”

“Sienna—“

“I should.” I nodded too many times. “It’s fine. I overreacted.”

“You did not overreact,” Marcel said, he glanced back down the corridor. “He’s outside the ballroom.”

I stopped breathing.

“He is not coming closer,” Marcel added. “Not unless you ask.”

“I can go back,” I said.

Emmie studied me for a long second. “You don’t have to sit beside him.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

I loved her for saying that.

“I do,” I repeated softly.

Emmie nodded once, because she understood the shape of the cage.

“Then I’ll walk with you.”

Marcel offered me his arm.

I hesitated.

Taking it felt safer than walking alone. It also felt like something Jamison would notice. Maybe that was why I took Emmie’s hand instead.

She squeezed my fingers, then guided me back through the corridor.

Jamison stood near the ballroom entrance.

Alone.

No guards, whiskey… and his phone wasn’t in sight.