The west salon smelled like old money and fresh secrets.
Velvet curtains. Polished mahogany. A crackling fireplace that didn't need to be lit but was — for ambiance, probably. Or intimidation.
Lisa sat on a cushioned armchair, legs crossed, pretending not to feel out of place. Cassian stood nearby, posture flawless, sipping something golden from a crystal glass.
Across from them, Lord and Lady Montclair chatted with Cassian's parents in tones smooth as silk and twice as sharp. Every word was diplomacy disguised as small talk.
"This union," Lord Montclair said, raising his glass, "will fortify the legacy of both families for generations."
Lisa raised her own glass automatically, though she wasn't sure if she was toasting legacy, hypocrisy, or the world's most awkward engagement.
Cassian clinked her glass lightly. His eyes held hers a second too long.
"Try not to look like you're planning an escape," he murmured.
She gave him a faux-sweet smile. "Too late. I'm already mapping the exits."
The conversation shifted to estate mergers, private security, and foreign trade alliances. Lisa's attention span waved a tiny white flag.
Suddenly, a familiar name broke through the noise:
"Selène," Lady Vilmont said, "you've been rather quiet. What do you think of the East Wing renovation plans?"
Lisa blinked.
Think, Lisa. Think like Selène.
She smiled politely. "I believe the East Wing is... best left untouched. Historical preservation, you know."
There was a pause.
Then a slow nod from Lord Vilmont. "Wise. Tradition is strength."
Cassian looked impressed.
Lisa felt triumphant.
Then promptly ruined it by adding, "Besides, ghosts get cranky when you move their favorite chairs."
A stunned silence.
Lady Montclair's expression froze.
Cassian… coughed.
Hard.
Lisa sipped her drink, expression angelic. "What? Just being culturally respectful."
Across the room, a younger cousin — maybe sixteen — started giggling into her sleeves.
Lisa gave her a wink.
The tension in the room shifted — not gone, but altered. Like someone had cracked a window in a very stuffy room.
Cassian leaned closer.
"You're either going to destroy this family… or save it."
Lisa grinned. "Can't I do both?"
Just then, a butler approached Cassian, whispering something into his ear. His expression darkened subtly.
"Excuse me," he said to the room, and stepped away.
Lisa watched him go.
Then turned back to her drink.
Only to find Lady Montclair now seated directly beside her.
Smiling.
That never boded well.
"My dear," the woman said softly, "we need to have a little chat... about your future."