Chapter 16 Her Name On His Tongue

• The gala was a spectacle. Wealth dripped from every polished surface. The chandeliers sparkled like fallen stars, and laughter spilled like champagne. Lucien Moretti stood in the center of it all, bourbon in hand, half-listening to some overfed senator brag about real estate. It was the kind of event that used to feed his ego. The kind that reminded everyone who really held power in this city.
• But tonight, the air felt wrong.
• He couldn’t name it. Couldn’t shake it. It lingered in the corners of the room like smoke—sharp, unseen, undeniable.