THREE DAYS after the mirror incident, Mailah found herself being hustled into Grayson's car with a sense of surreal whiplash.
"Remind me again why we're doing this?" she asked as Grayson navigated through Tuscan countryside roads that wound like ribbon through olive groves.
"Because," he said with the kind of patience that suggested he'd explained this before, "we still have a wedding to plan. And despite supernatural threats, soul-binding contracts, and murderous cats, the world expects us to show up with cake."
"The world has terrible priorities."
"Agreed. But Liora has been texting me increasingly aggressive reminders that we have tastings scheduled."
Mailah snorted. "Aggressive how?"
He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. The latest message read: Mr. Grayson Ashford, if you miss another appointment, I will personally have your espresso machine enchanted to only brew decaf. Do not test me.
"She's terrifying," Mailah said admiringly.
