Her mother's necklace.
For a moment, Gianna thought she couldn't be seeing it well. Her vision stilled, caught between disbelief and a rising flutter of panic.
She leaned forward, slowly, breath held hostage in her chest, and peered at it as the man lifted the said item—plastered around a plastic black neck—while listing off its properties in a voice that suddenly felt far too loud.
It was it.
And when her eyes scanned the room for her cousin, searching through bodies, glittering gowns, and soft golden light, and found those mischievous eyes staring back at her with that familiar glint… she knew her analysis was right.
Knew she was in trouble. Knew precisely how deep, especially when she heard the bids start going off like small explosions.
"What the hell!" she cussed under her breath, and the sound snapped Noah out of his admiration for the jewellery; he'd been busy testing its texture virtually around Gianna's neck, imagining how it might look on her.
