The car rolled to a stop in front of the glass-paneled hotel, its polished curves reflecting the overcast sky like a secret waiting to break. Valets in black gloves moved with quiet precision, opening the doors as if the world outside couldn't touch what happened within. Nova stepped out first, heels clicking against the marble. The city buzzed just beyond the revolving doors, but inside the lobby, everything was muted, gold fixtures, soft jazz, and the scent of jasmine and money. Damian followed, his hand firm on the small of her back. In this light, in this place, he looked like he belonged. The staff didn't question him; they deferred to him. His tailored coat, the crisp fold of his collar, the way he scanned every corner before moving, all of it whispered one thing: predator in silk. Nova felt the shift in him. Not the man who brought her pancakes or kissed her bare shoulder in a sunlit kitchen. This Damian was composed, deliberate, and in control. It made her shiver slightly.
