Greg's POV
The night air was heavy with tension as we left the club. I could feel the weight of what had happened earlier still lingering between us.
Diego opened the door to his car, and we all got in, Aurora sitting stiffly beside me, her silence sharp enough to cut glass.
He looked at me through the rearview mirror. “You need to relax, Greg,” he said. “How about some supper? There’s a great restaurant nearby. One of my favorites.”
I nodded, leaning back in my seat. “Fine. But make it quick. I’m not in the mood for any more surprises tonight.”
Aurora scoffed quietly beside me but said nothing.
When we arrived, the restaurant was dimly lit, with candles flickering on the tables and soft jazz playing in the background.
It should have been relaxing, but my instincts kicked in the mom
