The kind where your instincts rise before your mind does. Where something inside you stiffens, quietly warning you to step back.
That was what I felt when I looked at Vito.
There was something careless in the way he watched people. Like he was amused by them. Like he saw everyone as pieces on a board.
Just as I was about to look away, he started walking toward me.
I lifted my glass of red wine and kept my face calm. In pack gatherings like this, composure is survival. You never show unease.
"You must be Mrs. Hale," he said, his tone warm but edged with something playful.
I nodded. "And you are?"
"Vito," he replied smoothly. "You're stunning. You remind me of someone I used to know."
My fingers tightened slightly around the stem of my glass.
"Someone you used to know?" I asked lightly. "Many people say I resemble the late Ms. Morrigan. Is that who you mean?"
His smile deepened.
"Exactly. I met Ms. Morrigan years ago at a banquet. Her death was… unfortunate."
Unfortunate.
