The three people in the room turned as Thalassa entered.

Rosalind rose gracefully, a practiced smile playing on her lips. "Thalassa," she cooed, her voice honeyed with charm, "I didn't mean it that way. You've been such a help to Lysander and the Sinclairs. I'm sure they'll show their gratitude. You don't need to worry about any benefits from us. Compared to the Sinclairs, what could we possibly offer?"

Rosalind had a way with words, and as she locked eyes with Thalassa, her gaze was liquid warmth, her smile brimming with intellect. It was a display of breeding in every nuanced expression.

When Thalassa had first met Rosalind three years ago, she was struck by her poise, her elegance, and her well-read charm.

She was everything Thalassa felt she could never be.

meeting Rosalind, with her air of cultured grace and the unmistakable scent

couldn't help but feel like the epitome of

complaint to Joshua, she seamlessly shifted her demeanor when facing Thalassa, elevating her while slyly belittling

knew Thalassa's role with the Sinclairs was hardly official; she was not Lysander's wife. Her position was precarious at best, and the idea of receiving benefits from them was a stretch. Thalassa met Rosalind's gaze with a cool smile. "Thank you for your concern, dear Rosalind,

Q

PLAY YOUR

of modesty. "You grew up in the countryside, handling everything life threw at you. You've weathered more storms

to

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