The seat adjacent to Cecilia became available as the person stood up to make room, and Mark took the opportunity to sit beside her. With eleven people squeezing into ten seats, the proximity was undeniable.

Mark was pressed against Cecilia, acutely aware of the softness of her waist, though his expression revealed nothing of his internal state.

Involved in the evening’s mingling, he held a cigarette between his slender, pale fingers, not for smoking but perhaps as a social prop.

His handsome features complemented his formidable background.

Here, no one would dare challenge him or pressure him into smoking or drinking.

The room buzzed with energy.

quiet, found herself the focus when a tipsy gentleman offered her a glass of wine, slurring, “A toast from Miss Fowler shall guarantee funding for

Her eyes lifted.

wealthy patrons

a Fowler daughter entertaining the

used to be such a big help to her career… If her accepting

expectant eyes of the crowd, Cecilia rose, glass in

offered a

Medina, I trust

to sip, a slender hand

It was Mark.

gasp filled the

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