Amara's POV

Garvin’s hand brushed lightly against the small of my back as he steered me away from the crowd. His smile was polished, practiced, but his eyes, those sharp, cutting eyes, were studying me too closely.

“Is everything alright, Amara?” he asked, voice smooth as silk. “You seemed… tense. What were you and that lady discussing?”

I froze mid-step, my pulse quickening. His tone wasn’t angry, but there was a weight to it, a warning tucked beneath the softness.

I forced ...