Iyana raised a brow. "Why the hotel?"
Vyan opened his mouth, but before he could respond, her expression shifted—eyes widening slightly as a realization hit her. She leaned back a little, dramatically gasping.
"Don't tell me… you already booked a room to celebrate our wedding night?"
Vyan laughed as he reached forward to tap her forehead. "Please. Get your mind out of the gutter, my lady. The hotel isn't for that particularly."
She pouted. "How boring. You're saying I dressed like a dream and cried like a heroine in a tragic love ballad for nothing?"
He tilted his head, giving her a look that was half-swoon, half-smug. "Oh, trust me, your performance was unforgettable. But the hotel is for our safety."
"Safety?" she echoed. "What do you mean?"
"There's a chance there might be an attack at the estate tonight," he said casually, shrugging one shoulder.
Her spine straightened instantly. "What?" she asked, voice sharp with alarm. "Did you get intel on that?"
