“You don’t need to smile, Jennie. You just need to look obedient.”

Blair says it like she’s offering advice, not poison. But it’s poison. It’s always poison with her. Her voice is clipped, her stilettos louder than necessary as she walks across the room, flinging a stapled document onto the coffee table like it offends her.

I pick it up slowly. “A joint statement?” I blink as I skim the page. “Seriously?”

Blair doesn’t blink. “Marcus Lane’s orders. Family unity. Public trust. All that corporate PR fluff your little romantic drama’s been damaging.”

“Right.” I say the word flat, without sugar. My fingers tighten around the paper. I don’t look...