Toronto greeted her with cold precision. Brianna stepped through the glass doors of the Ritz, suitcase rolling behind her, her heartbeat taut beneath the carefully arranged composure she carried like a shield.
Jordan was already waiting in the lobby.
He stood beside a marble column, posture anchored and deliberate, eyes sharp enough to take her in at a glance. When their gazes met, something flickered across his expression. It was quick, unreadable, and carried a proprietary weight that made her chest tighten.
“You are on time,” he said.
“So are you.”
He nodded toward the elevators. “We have dinner tonight. Investors. Black dress.”
No welcome, no softness, only the familiar return to a rhythm she had once sworn to escape.
She followed because she had no choice.
Time slipped into an
