Layla’s POV
Like the gentleman he is, Vincent escorts me back to the ballroom. The gown he provided swishes around my feet, like water crashing on the shore. My nerves shake, but I force myself to enter the ballroom with my head held high.
I won’t give them the chance to tear me down when I’ve done nothing but build this pack up.
Eyes follow us as we enter the room, drawn to the striking red gown I wear, but also focusing on the fact that I’m not with Alexander. I have another man leading me to the dance floor.
A prince from another country.
I’m used to melting into the shadows, but in this dress, that’s impossible. I’ve never worn anything so expensive or bold, but the power I feel building in me is addicting. Staying out of the light has become second nature—whether it was as th
