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He's looking at Celeste. And his expression is—well, it’s fascinating.

I've seen those icy blue eyes warm. I've watched them turn amused. I've even watched them flare like blue fire when he saw me in this dress.

There is nothing warm in them now.

“What exactly is this?”

Celeste recovers enough to give him a brittle smile before she tries to grab for his arm, he steps out of reach and she is forced to put her hands down.

“Mitchell, thank goodness. I was only trying to help. This woman was telling everyone she's here with you and since I know you would never⁠—”

“She is.”

Two words.

That's it.

Celeste stops.

Mitchell steps beside me. He places one hand on my lower back and something in my chest squeezes.

“Layla Hawthorne is my date.”

Silence. The guard immediately steps back.

“My apologies, Miss Hawthorne.”

I nod because apparently my ability to form words has temporarily deserted me.

Celeste recovers first.

“Well, obviously I didn't know⁠—”

“Yes, you did.”

Mitchell's voice is still quiet. She blinks.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not that it is any of your business, but you knew she was with me. I know you saw us together before I was called away.”

Oh. Fuck.

Celeste's face flames.

“That's ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Mitchell, I've known you for years.”

“Which seems to have given you a remarkably inflated impression of our relationship.”

A murmur moves through the people around us. Celeste's face goes blank. Mitchell glances at the audience she's collected. Then back at her.

“Since you've made this everyone else's business, let's make sure everyone has the correct information.”

Oh, shit.