Madame Lula's eyebrow arched, her tone sharpening as she addressed the figure before her. "Everything that happens in this pavilion is my concern. Including you."
Izan met her gaze, feeling the weight of her suspicion. He had come here often, concealing his true identity behind the mask of a mysterious merchant, all to get closer to Elian. But now, under Madame Lula's piercing scrutiny, he felt the delicate balance he had maintained slipping.
Is this the right moment to reveal himself? An opportunity to ask about Lady Montclair? he wondered. His pulse quickened at the thought, but just as he was about to speak, a crash interrupted the tense silence.
The door to the room burst open, and a male courtesan stumbled inside, breathless and pale, as if he had been running for his life. His eyes darted to the bed where Elian lay unconscious, a slight tremble in his hands as he struggled to find his voice.
