Chapter 11 The Truth

• The door clicked shut behind her, a final note in a symphony of unraveling secrets. Brandy stood there, just inside the threshold of Konstantine’s office, her breath hitching with the weight of what she was about to do. Behind her, the world spun—gowns twirled, crystal glasses clinked, and whispers bloomed like poison flowers. But here, in the quiet hush of the room where shadows pooled in corners and the air was thick with smoke and storm, it was only them.
• Her fingers trembled. The hem of her dress brushed the back of her legs as she shifted her weight. The ice-blue silk, once a fantasy, now felt like armor pressed too tightly against her skin.
• Konstantine stood at the edge of the desk, his hands in the pockets of his tailored midnight suit. The lamplight carved the sharp lines of his face into something fierce, something reverent. But his eyes—those glacial eyes—were the softest thing about him. They watched her like she was something sacred. Or something dangerous.