Lady Catalina had always prided herself on restraint, virtue, on maintaining the grace and composure expected of a noblewoman of her standing but tonight, she was losing herself.
The moment she stepped into Prince Ambrose's lavishly decorated chambers, she knew resistance was futile.
Red silk draped across the bed like flowing wine, the air thick with the scent of roses and candles flickering in soft, golden hues.
Petals were scattered across the floor, a deliberate path leading her deeper into a den of temptation and waiting for her, like a pair of wolves lying in wait, were Prince Ambrose and Lady Thalassa.
The prince lounged in his chair, dressed in scandalous ease. A robe of deep crimson barely cinched at the waist, his golden hair tousled, his smirk dripping with wicked intent.
