In the soft glow of evening, Valentine's bedroom in the sprawling Montgomery estate radiated luxury and old money. Delicate crystal sconces cast golden light across the cream-colored wallpaper embossed with damask patterns, and the large bay windows framed the Manhattan skyline, glittering like a sea of diamonds.
Camille stood there, her slender fingers curled tightly around the white window railing, her manicured nails digging into her palm. Her gaze was fixated on the sleek black Rolls Royce that had just pulled up in the circular driveway. From her vantage point, she could see Anastasia stepping out, her long coat fluttering in the crisp breeze like a cape of quiet power.
Camille's heart clenched.
"It would be good to let go of your little infatuation for Dante," Valentine said, lounging on a velvet chaise near the window, her voice sharp with reason. "He's clearly in love with Anastasia, and they're getting married in two days."
