Kylie’s POV.
The music and laughter of the banquet had barely faded into a soft murmur when Graham’s demeanor shifted from confusion to suspicion. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, remained locked on me even as the crowd around us moved in oblivious mirth. Standing beside me with a hand lightly resting on the small of my back, Logan seemed momentarily unaware of the tension brewing.
“Graham, I assure you, this is Anne,” Logan reiterated with a calm that belied the undercurrent of strain in his voice. His introduction at the banquet had been clear, but it hadn’t dispelled Graham’s doubts.
Graham’s laugh was short and devoid of humor. “Come on, Logan. You expect me to believe that? She’s Kylie. I know my wife,” he protested, his voice rising slightly, drawing curious glances from nearby guests.