Aria’s POV

The hall glowed like a castle, chandeliers dripping light across a sea of designer gowns and black suits. Cameras flashed at the entry; violin music floated under the talk of donors and socialites. My dress felt too tight, my smile too brittle. I wanted to escape.

“You’re tense,” came the low voice in my ear. “Relax.”

I didn’t turn. “I can’t relax when you’re glaring at everyone like you’re planning their deaths.”

“I’m protecting my ...