The words lingered between them. Something shifted, it was subtle, but undeniable.
Roman's chest tightened. His gaze dropped, almost involuntarily, to her lips, and stayed there for a second too long. Then he turned away, as if breaking free from something he didn't want to feel.
"I'm glad I can still trust you," he said, his tone lighter, too quick, almost forced. Then a beat passed. "But tell me where Vance took you."
Estelle let out a breath, her gaze lowering for a fraction of a second. You can't tell him. Not yet. She swallowed, lifting her eyes back to his. "We went to check if the stylists had arrived," she said. The lie settled heavily on her tongue. "But no one was there. Apparently, the maids gave him the wrong information." Her fingers brushed absently against her dress. "But they should be here soon," she added, keeping her voice even. "I'll get ready in my room when they arrive."
