THIRD PERSON POV
The rain had turned the city into a mirror, every streetlight bleeding gold into the puddles. In the wide circular drive of the Lancaster mansion, the Bentley waited, a beast at rest. Rowan Hale sat behind the wheel, his posture neat, his gaze fixed on the reflection of the double doors through the rain-slick glass.
He told himself not to look. He always did. But the second those doors opened, the rule dissolved.
Seraphina Lancaster moved through the rain like a secret the sky itself wanted to keep. The soft sweep of her emerald dress clung to her body as she stepped into view, one slender hand balancing an umbrella, the other brushing her hair back. Even from where he sat, Rowan could feel the hum of her presence — the kind that filled a room before she even entered it
