Victoria Bella Volkov:

The moment Marianne Washington stepped into the hall, her eyes found me first. It was almost as if she couldn’t help herself.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across my lips as I watched her struggle to keep her composure. I could see it—the flicker of annoyance in her expression, the effort it took not to grit her teeth and spit curses at me.

“Marianne… you came,” I said smoothly, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing steward’s tray.

“You ...