When the last camera was packed away, the hall slowly emptied, leaving behind only silence and the faint scent of perfume.
Ava stood there for a moment longer, her hands resting lightly on the folds of her gown. The lights dimmed as the crew left, and for the first time, she could breathe again.
Clara reappeared, clipboard in hand, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her expression was calm and efficient, she always looked composed, even when exhaustion seeped into her features.
"That went well," she said briskly. "The photographer's happy, and Mr. Cross approved the shots. You should rest before dinner."
Ava nodded faintly, her eyes still unfocused. She was still thinking about the weight of his hand on hers, the coldness in his eyes that somehow managed to unsettle her.
Clara paused, studying her. "There's also something else I need to discuss with you," she added, softer now. "The invitations."
Ava blinked. "Invitations?"
