I looked at her hopeful face and felt anger rising again—not the sharp, reckless kind, but something heavier.
Whatever Adrian had done, Mila did not deserve to become part of a confrontation in a crowded hotel.
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Herbeauty
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“No,” I said gently. “Not yet.”
Her smile faded.
“But Daddy’s waiting.”
“I need to talk to him first.”
She studied me with the solemn attention children sometimes give adults when they sense the truth is nearby but cannot yet name it.
“Is he in trouble?”
Before I could answer, Bianca stepped forward.
“This is becoming inappropriate,” she said. “You need to leave.”
Her voice was firmer now, though not as confident.
Several people nearby had stopped pretending not to listen.
I rose slowly.
“Who is upstairs with Adrian?”
Bianca glanced toward the staircase.
“I already told you.”
“No. You gave me a title. I’m asking for a name.”
