The silence held for exactly four seconds.
Four seconds of held breath, locked joints, eyes wide in the particular paralysis of people who'd just witnessed something irreversible and weren't yet sure they wanted to process it.
Then the dam broke.
"What the fuck—"
"Did he just—"
"Oh my God, did you hear what he said to her? The thing about—"
"—wanted to kill himself, he said that out loud, he actually—"
"—her face, did you see her face—"
The VIP general area detonated into the tightly controlled pandemonium only Paradise gossip could achieve. These were Legacy children and Downtown elite—they didn't scream.
Amber reached Nastya first.
The Romano girl hadn't moved from the couch. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, both hands pressed flat to her own thighs as though sheer pressure could stop them trembling.
