The dining room of the Thorne penthouse was a cathedral of glass and cold stone. A table made of petrified wood, polished until it shone like a dark mirror, sat beneath a chandelier of jagged black crystals. It was a room designed to make anyone feel small, but as Iza sat at one end, she felt more than small—she felt exposed.The red silk of her dress felt like a brand against her skin. Every time she moved, the fabric hissed, a constant reminder of the man sitting at the opposite end of the long table.Dark hadn't spoken since he entered. He ate with a cold, mechanical precision, cutting into a steak that looked as rare as the atmosphere in the room. He didn't look at his phone. He didn't look at the city. He looked at her. His gaze was a constant, heavy weight, tracking the way her fork trembled, the way she swallowed, the way her collarbones shifted with every breath."You aren't eating, Izaib," he said finally. The sound of his voice in the quiet room was like a stone dropped in
Last Updated : 2026-03-13 Read more