Page 78 of A Vicious Love

Sienna’s face colored faintly. “I was only speaking with Alistair.”

Alistair.

My teeth locked.

Ashbourne inclined his head with the calm of a man who had never had his jaw broken and therefore had too much faith in the world.

“Crow.”

“Ashbourne.”

“I was telling him about the restoration wing,” she said softly. “The old art collection from Harlan Mercy House.”

“I didn’t ask what you were doing.”

The second I said it, her face closed. She went back into herself.

Something twisted sharply beneath my ribs.

Alistair’s eyes cooled. The challenge sharpened, stepped closer by half an inch.

He did not step back.

Interesting.

“Your fiancée was explaining the difference between restoration and replication,” he said.

“My fiancée does enjoy explaining things.”

Sienna flinched.

Fuck.

“Jamison,” Sienna said quickly, “this is my cousin, Celeste Bellemere.”

I had not even looked at the woman beside her. Beautiful in the polished Bellemere way, with hair like spun gold and a fitted ivory dress that had been chosen by someone who understood exactly how dynasty men looked. She stood on Sienna’s opposite side.

“Mr. Crow,” she said, extending her hand. “We’ve met once or twice, though briefly.”

I didn’t take it.

“Have we?”

Her smile flickered.

“Celeste is Elodie’s sister,” Sienna said softly.

“I gathered.”

Celeste lowered her hand slowly, but she did not step back. Interesting. A Bellemere woman with enough nerve to be rejected publicly and still hover within reach.

That did not feel like coincidence.

Celeste’s gaze moved briefly to Sienna, then back to me. “Sienna was just telling us she’s back in rehearsal. Good to see her moving well again.”

Something about the phrase pissed me off beyond reason. Or maybe because Celeste had placed herself close enough to me that anyone watching could imagine a different arrangement.

“She’s not a horse,” I said.