The Grand Dining Room was waiting.
It was a cavernous space lit by two massive crystal chandeliers. The table was set with enough silverware to perform open-heart surgery, and the silence was heavy enough to suffocate a canary.
Grandfather Sinclair sat at the head, looking like a gargoyle in a tuxedo. To his right, Diana nursed a glass of red wine. To his left, Catherine sat with perfect posture, clearly ready to launch a charm offensive. Lucas was staring at his bread plate, looking like he wanted to be abducted by aliens.
The double doors swung open.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair," the footman announced.
Damien walked in first, looking lethal in his tuxedo, his tie undone, his energy dark and restless.
Then, Aria stepped into the light.
She was wearing gold.
