A pair embraced tightly, the man lost in a fervor of kisses.

Karina’s eyes popped wide open; she tugged on Rosalynn’s arm, exclaiming, “Look, is that Lyndon? Oh my God! He always seems so unapproachable. Could he really be this wild privately? And the woman with him, she looks familiar. What’s her name?”

“Ivy Larson.”

Rosalynn spoke her name, her brows knitting together as she observed the footage unfurling on the large screen.

What exactly was happening here?

Why was Lyndon with Ivy?

And why was there a live broadcast of it?

mind raced, piecing together that they might be in the third-floor

swiftly to her feet, gathering the

Angela’s Library

the room,

rush? Take care, you could trip,” he

I not rush? It

a spectacle wouldn’t normally be his choice

was

could

Ivy?

of disapproval flickered

both status and age. Lyndon

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