ALISA’S POV The next morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, turning the marble island into a sheet of gold. I woke slowly, the sheets still warm beside me, but the bed empty. Kael’s scent lingered in the air—cedar and rain and something sharper, like anticipation. My body remembered last night in every ache and pulse, a reminder that the kiss on the desk had been only the beginning. I slipped out of bed, pulled on the soft robe hanging on the chair, and padded toward the kitchen. Coffee was already brewing, the rich aroma cutting through the last fog of sleep. Kael stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, scrolling through a tablet with one hand while the other cradled a mug. His tie was gone, the top buttons of his shirt open, exposing the strong line of his collarbone. He looked every inch the senior partner—calm, controlled, lethal—but the second he turned and saw me, the mask slipped. His eyes darkened. “Morning, little wolf.” “Morni
آخر تحديث : 2026-08-01 اقرأ المزيد