The Fiancée's Accusation

"Are you sure they'll be okay waiting outside?" I asked Camille as we were led through the elegant restaurant.

After our shopping expedition was cut short by the boutique incident, Camille had insisted we needed "girl talk" without her bodyguards hovering. She'd dismissed them with surprising authority, instructing them to wait by the car.

"They're used to it," she said with a casual wave. "I come here all the time. The owner knows me well."

As if on cue, a distinguished older gentleman approached our table, kissing Camille's hand with practiced charm. "Miss Valois! What a pleasure to see you again."

"Hello, Giorgio. This is my friend, Seraphina."

He gave me a warm smile that reached his eyes—a refreshing change after the boutique experience. "Any friend of Miss Valois is welcome here. I'll send over something special."