He practiced holding his breath and dropping to the ground in a controlled collapse. His personal trainer, a former stage actor, taught him how to keep muscles loose and still. Today, he planned to stage a fainting spell. The day before the wedding. If Tiffany Monroe, the striking blonde who wore diamonds like air, truly cared, she would show fear and devotion. Silas needed to know before he signed away his heart and the prenuptial agreements that hid behind polite envelopes.
He did not expect the bitterness rising in his throat. It tasted metallic and sharp. When the wineglass slipped from his fingers and shattered across the marble, he thought it was his cue. He let his knees buckle. His body hit the ground with a hollow crack.
He tried to blink, but his eyelids felt like stone.
Nearby, red heels clicked forward. Tiffany appeared in his narrowing field of vision. She towered above him like a goddess of ice, her lipstick matching her shoes. She swirled wine in her glass and only watched him struggle.
“Finally,” she whispered, voice smooth as silk. “The performance is over.”