It's just for the act, and it's perfect. Estelle's fingers rose slowly, brushing over the necklace as she looked at herself in the mirror. The stones of the necklace shimmered against her skin, catching the light just right.
Satisfied, she lifted her gaze and then turned her head slightly to look at him. Her eyes traced him now, just as his had done earlier. The tux fit him perfectly, sharp lines, clean edges, every detail intentional. It's just the outfit, she told herself, almost stubbornly. That's all.
"How do I look?" she asked, her voice steady, though something softer lingered beneath it.
Roman didn't answer immediately. His gaze moved over her slowly, taking his time this time, like he wasn't even trying to hide it, and then a faint smile touched his lips. "Like a Whitehall," he said at last. The words landed, quiet but heavy.
