The air stiffened the moment Caroline locked eyes with Lucien Moreau.
He chuckled swirling the wine in his hand , he was dressed in a grey suit with his hair tousled as if he just combed his hand through it with his blue piercing eyes drawing attention from women.
Caroline's eyes sharpened into daggers, and for a second, she looked ready to march over and throttle him in front of the entire ballroom. Instead, she folded her arms tightly and snapped her gaze to Anastasia.
"How do you know him?" she hissed, her voice tight with barely concealed rage.
Anastasia blinked. "Lucien?" she asked, as if unsure why it mattered.
Caroline raised a brow. "Yes, Lucien. That man whose Aston Martin I accidentally—" she corrected herself—"allegedly scratched. She couldn't believe she was here facing him again.
Anastasia suppressed a smile. The image of Caroline arguing with Lucien at a police station wasn't hard to imagine.
