“Gianna,” Valentina called out. “Come here! Christian was just telling me the most amusing story.” I frowned, not pausing in my trek to the minibar. “Who?” She faltered, looking to Christian, who stood beside her and who seemed to show no confusion toward my slight. And then she pouted. “Christian, tell her to stop being rude.” His cold eyes were on me as he responded to her. “Of course. Who are you talking about?” Since he’d arrived, we’d been playing one of my favorite games: pretending the other didn’t exist.
