"Why did you do that?"
Christian's voice was low, sharp — the kind that carried more danger than a shout. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned Ruby across the lavish hotel suite. The golden chandelier above them glittered, but the air between them was thick with unease.
He had finally managed to collect his thoughts after the disaster at the gala, but anger trembled beneath his calm surface. This stunt will bring them ruin.
Ruby spun toward him, her face flushed with disbelief. "What do you mean, why? You're asking as if I committed a crime!" Her tone was defensive, brittle, the same way it had been whenever she was cornered.
Christian raked a hand through his hair, pacing the carpet like a man trying to contain a storm. "Ruby, you did commit one — not by law, maybe, but in reputation. You copied Esteban de la Vega's design. You knew what that would mean if it came out."
