If nerves could kill, she would be dead now.
Claire has been fidgeting in front of the mirror for a few hours now. Not even Miss Cassandra's exquisite ensemble of a black conservative dress, and the right set of jewelry could assuage her fears. She's meeting Gabriel's mom, the fearsome matriarch of the clan, the de facto decision-maker of half of the companies in their holdings, and for what? To judge her. To peer through her soul and see if she can find anything there worth taking seriously.
And why would Claire have to be nervous about this meeting? It's all fake. She's not a real fiancée. If it really goes crazy, she'd just tell her the truth: that this was a business arrangement with her son, with no personal feelings involved.
Or is it?
