The Rolls-Royce came to a halt at the grand entrance of the Lancaster mansion. The air shifted the moment the car door opened.
Seraphina and Lucien's heads turned to the door. The housekeeper informed the Lancaster couple in the study room, and Nicholas ended the call, stirring his loathsome gaze toward the door.
Alaric stepped out first, clad in a black suit, cold and untouchable. His presence was enough to silence the murmurs of the mansion staff. But when Aveline followed, the air changed.
A beige suit draped over her shoulders, a black turtleneck cutting sharply against the soft fabric, her steps steady and commanding beside Alaric as they walked in.
She didn't look like someone's date, someone's guest. She looked like power beside him.
If Alaric was the authority, Aveline was defiance in her high heels. Her walk said it aloud, President who?
The Astors hadn't expected her. And the surprise was clear in their eyes.
