The cameras kept flashing. Vivienne blinked through the white spots dancing across her vision.
Isaiah's hand was warm. His palm pressed against hers. Solid. Real.
She'd expected him to let go by now. Most people did. The photographers were vultures circling, and smart people knew to keep their distance from the Valentine spotlight.
But he didn't pull away.
His grip stayed firm.
She glanced sideways at him. Just for a second.
He was smiling. Kind of. More like grimacing while trying to look pleasant. His eyes squinted against the flashes. His jaw was tight. The expression was completely wrong for what the photographers probably wanted.
But god, it was honest.
Real nerves. Real discomfort. Not the practiced smile she'd worn ten thousand times.
Something warm bloomed in her chest.
Wait.
She wanted to kiss him.
Right now. On this stupid red carpet with a hundred cameras pointed at them.
That was. Problematic.
Very problematic.
"Miss Valentine! Over here!"
