How does she move so silently? Like a ghost. A beautifully curated ghost with blood-red lips and the faintest lilt of amusement. She's pretending to be tipsy, but I see through the act.
"My name is Kiara De Falcrest. Nice to meet you," she says, her gloved hand extended like she's offering me a gilded invitation to step into a trap. Her mask is intricate but pointless. Her identity is painted in her every movement.
"Oh," I manage, taking her hand as gracefully as I can muster. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I'm Mel—Mr. Falcrest's secretary."
Her brows twitch, just slightly, and her mouth forms a perfectly painted O. "Oh!" she says, dragging the sound out just enough to make me wonder what she's thinking. "Well then, forgive my brother in advance for who he is. He can be... stubborn sometimes." Her smile is saccharine, the kind of sweetness meant to hide poison.
"Ah, that's fine, Miss Falcrest. I'm used to it by now," I reply smoothly.
