Alaric's POV
Roxanne had hauled me through what seemed like a never-ending fashion show, every gown demanding my input and seal of approval. The tiny fitting room hummed with her friends' giddy chatter as they gushed over each dress she paraded. But every time Roxanne spun toward me with those expectant eyes, hunting my face for the spark she desperately wanted, I watched disappointment wash over her when she met only courteous detachment.
When she vanished behind the curtain for dress number five, I realized I'd better conjure up some fake excitement or I'd be stuck in this airless shop all day.
"Riccy," Tiffany's saccharine voice drifted over, one of Roxanne's most annoying sidekicks. Her perfectly polished nails landed on my arm with calculated ease. "Promise me the Queen will honor us at your ceremony."
