ODETTE'S POINT OF VIEW
The church bells were still ringing when we stepped out into the afternoon light, our hands still intertwined as though neither of us wanted to break the connection.The Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail waited at the curb like something from a dream — deep, velvety crimson paint catching the sunlight, its sleek curves reflecting flashes of gold and ivory from the crowd's attire.
The air smelled faintly of roses and champagne, a delicate fragrance I realized came from the flower arrangements tucked along the path leading to the car. Our guests were clapping, cameras clicking, voices rising in waves of congratulations as the chauffeur held the door open.
Kiel looked down at me as if the world around us had gone still.There was no smirk this time, no guarded mask — just pure, unfiltered joy in his eyes. A joy so real it softened every sharp edge of his features.
