Anna watched the faces of the people around the table shift—eyebrows lifting and lips pressing together, a thin, eager hunger for drama flickering in half a dozen eyes.
“Or did you use Miss Camilla for her father’s connections, like the rumors say, and then dump her?” Mr. Dom added, his tone mocking.
The room rippled with low murmurs again.
Vincenzo dropped his hands to his thighs.
His fingers curled inward, knuckles whitening as his fist tightened around nothing.
Anna’s gaze traced the line of his arm to his shoulder, where his neck was held rigid and every muscle drawn tight.
Veins stood out against his skin, pulsing with each beat of his heart.
His jaw was clenched so tightly she could see the muscle twitching beneath his cheek.
His gaze stayed locked on Mr. Dom, cold, impassive
