“Selene stands on her own merit. She isn't filling a vacancy. You will always be a friend."
Her eyes filled with hope that extinguished when I continued.
"The constant messages, the calls at all hours, however, that ends today."
Her lips parted, the perfect oval of surprise. For a moment, something else unguarded crossed her features before the mask reassembled itself.
"I should offer my congratulations, then."
"Consider them received," I replied, cool and final.
Her gaze held mine, and I allowed myself one last look at what had once captivated me. The camera flashes had always loved her. Sun-kissed complexion, the golden cascade of hairthat seemed to arrange itself by divine right, those lips that could reshape kindness into manipulation between breaths. Danielle Rousseau was keenly conscious of her market value.
With Selene, beauty operated by different laws.
Danielle commanded attention like a spotlight; Selene drew it like gravity. Her presence wasn't crafted for society pages or masquerading galas, it infiltrated the senses without permission, a quiet intensity that silenced conversations rather than dominating them, lingering in memory long after she'd gone.
Danielle thrived in a world that consumed everything it touched; Selene belonged to one that survived what tried to consume it.
The tedium of measuring one woman against another quickly lost its hold on me.
My feelings for Danielle had faded to nothing long before I officially ended things over eight months ago. We'd been a transaction too, but one disguised as romance, her social capital for my public image, both of us performing for cameras and Dominion gossip columns until even that became a chore.
Other women had warmed my bed since her. Never the one within these walls, but at the hotel chain a branch of my family owned. None of those few women had enough influence to make headlines. Looking at her now, I felt nothing but the courtesy you extend to someone who once occupied space in your life, and beneath that, the quiet satisfaction of a chapter finally closed.
She crossed her arms "When do I meet the bride-to-be?"
"You'll see her at functions, naturally. She'll be at my side."
Her smile stretched thin as parchment. "And is she... equipped for our circles?"
"More than equipped. She navigates them with more grace than those born to privilege."
Danielle's mouth opened slightly, hovering at the edge of indiscretion. "There's talk about her mother's—."
"History that will remain unmentioned. By anyone. Especially you,” I cut her off.
She flinched as though I'd struck her. Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I was only making conversation."
"No, you weren't, but we'll pretend you were just this once."
The vibration of my phone against the desk drew my attention to Trevor's new message.Incoming.
I didn’t have time to ask who or what before footsteps reached with a rapid approach. In my world, only one woman possessed that particular privilege, the right to enter unannounced. Well, two now with Selene moving in.
My mother materialized in the threshold, her eyes darting between Danielle and me before settling into a perfunctory smile.
"Alaric," she greeted me, lingering at the entrance as if she'd discovered a private theater scene in progress, "what an unexpected gathering."
She regarded Danielle with the same expression one reserved for examining expired merchandise still displayed on the shelf. They had gotten on well up until these past few years, and then my mother grew to dislike her more and more.
In Dominion, women maintained their own intricate power structure, like a shadow court running parallel to our visible one. Men knew better than to interfere directly. Our role was more subtle. A husband's treatment of his wife became the template for society's response. Elevate her, and doors opened. Diminish her, and the hierarchy followed suit.
The mathematics of it all was brutally simple.
At the sight of my mother, Danielle's face reset like a dislocated bone snapping back into place, smile brightening, posture straightening.
"Mrs. Kostas," she glided across the room to press her lips to my mother's cheek. "Lovely as ever."
