The cold night air hit Catherine's face the moment Dorian led her out through the hotel's private exit.
His hand never left the small of her back.
It no longer looked like an affectionate touch. His fingers dug just enough into her waist to remind her that he was no longer asking.
"I will not encourage you to become the subject of idle gossip," he said quietly as they descended the marble steps toward the waiting Maybach. His smile never left his face for the benefit of the photographers still lingering nearby. "You should know better than to make people talk."
Catherine forced herself to smile as another camera flashed.
"My queen should know how to behave."
His fingers tightened again. Pain shot through her side. She swallowed it without a sound.
She caught Jonathan's eyes across the driveway. He had seen everything. She knew that look. The calm mask he wore in boardrooms and negotiations was gone. What remained was simply her brother.
