THIRD PERSON POV
Outside, instead of the black SUV that had brought them, a Rolls-Royce Phantom gleamed beneath the moonlight, its silver hood ornament catching fire from the villa’s golden lamps.
The door was opened for them, and inside—already seated, as if he had been waiting all along—was Señor Cortez. One hand rested lazily on the leather seat, the other around a glass of dark amber liquor. His gaze swept over both women, slow, measured.
“Ladies,” he said, voice smooth as smoke. “Shall we?”
The car pulled away from the estate, the night swallowing them whole.
The Rolls-Royce Phantom glided smoothly through the city lights, the purr of its engine so soft it felt like the night itself was clearing the road for them. Alina sat closest to the window, chin propped against her hand, pr
