High Lord Ivan is in a foul mood, it would seem.
“Howdy.” Anya sounds friendly enough, but I can see the wariness in her eyes as she approaches.
How am I supposed to behave around my pretend sister-in-law after lying to her about loving her brother? I settle for a stiff wave. “Good to see you again, Anya.”
She stops in front of me and lifts her huge designer sunglasses up into her wavy hair. “Is it? Because you look miserable.”
Whatever nonsense I was about to say falters.
“Easy.” Anya eases into the chair across from me. “I know the truth, remember? You don’t have to pretend to be happily in love in front of me. What has my brother done now?”
The last couple days rise up like bile in my throat. The need to tell someone—anyone—what is going on is almost overwhelming.
But I can’t tel
