“I wouldn’t miss my own engagement party,” Rowan said.

His voice was calm, but it possessed a hard, dangerous edge that made my skin prickle.

I crept closer, holding the champagne tray like a shield as I pretended to offer drinks to a nearby couple.

“You look wet,” Tessa said, reaching out to touch his lapel. “Did it start raining again?”

Rowan caught her wrist before her fingers could touch his fabric.

His grip was firm, though he kept his face completely blank for the onlookers.

“Where is she, Tessa?” Rowan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tessa did not flinch, nor did she try to pull her hand away.

“We have guests, Rowan,” she murmured, her eyes glittering with cold amusement. “Smile for the cameras.”

A photographer stepped closer, raising his lens toward them.

Rowan turned his head slightly and gave the photographer a look so lethal the man instantly lowered his camera and walked away.

“I am not playing games tonight,” Rowan said, stepping closer to her.

“You never did have a sense of humor,” Tessa replied, her voice dropping to a sharp, quiet register.