“Damian, you’re a saint. Three years with that ugly duckling. I would’ve lost my mind.”
The air in Aurora’s lungs turned to ice. Her hand froze.
Caleb’s voice chimed in, smoother but just as cruel. “Seriously. But it was a smart move. Marrying her kept Seraphina safe from that arranged marriage. A perfect shield.”
“A fat, scarred shield,” Preston roared with laughter. “Did you ever even touch her?”
A cold, invisible fist closed around her lungs, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. Then she heard Damian’s voice. It was low, clear, and laced with the impatient boredom she knew so well.
“Enough. It was a business arrangement. The contract is almost over.”
Business arrangement. Contract.
