*KYLIE’S POV*
It’s the night of the gala, and I smooth the skirt of my dress, taking one last look at myself in the mirror.
It’s simple but elegant – a soft, burgundy dress with delicate lace sleeves.
As I step out of the cottage, I text Benedict:
Heading to the gala. I’ll be home late.
I wait a few seconds, watching the screen for reply. Nothing. My chest tightens a bit, but I shake it off, slipping my phone into my clutch.
He’s probably busy or wrapped up in something important. There’s a lot happening with the dissolving of Worthington Enterprises, after all.
I push the thought away and head to the gala.