"I'm not interested in investing in a project where girls parade around on a runway."
Damian's flat reply snapped Crescentia out of her thoughts like a whip.
Her jaw tensed despite herself. She didn't want to be offended, but she was. Those girls weren't parading—they were chasing dreams, fighting for a shot at something bigger. Something beautiful. Something she had once wanted, too.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snapping back.
"They're not parading," Lucas said stiffly, his tone sharp with irritation.
He stood tall, but it was obvious the rejection had bruised his ego.
Lucas Evans had come from old money—that was the only reason he'd made it into the Lorenzo matriarch's birthday party. Unlike the other guests, he hadn't earned his name in society. And his parents? They'd cut him off, determined to force their son to sink or swim without dragging their reputation down with him.
