“Whatever you’re imagining, stop it. Camilla is my sister.” I blink in surprise. The vision of Tyrant kissing that girl snaps out of existence. His sister? I feel relieved, and then annoyed at myself that I feel any such thing. Not one ounce of that relief, not one whisper of it, better be showing on my face. “You’re pleased she’s my sister,” Tyrant says with a wicked smile. “I couldn’t give a damn who she is.” “You’re a liar, Vivienne,”
