ARIA

“Miss Sinclair, left hand on the railing, please. We want to showcase the ring.”

I place my hand where directed. The diamond catches the morning sun, throwing prisms of light.

“Beautiful,” the photographer murmurs, clicking away. “Now, Mr. Ashford, if you could lean in slightly, like you’re whispering something to her...”

Dante’s breath is warm against my ear as he leans close. To anyone watching, it looks intimate and romantic.

“Smile, fiancée,” he murmurs, his ...