The harbor lights of Monaco flickered like scattered jewels across the dark water, shimmering with an almost hypnotic allure.
Anna paused at the edge of the dock before stepping onto the boarding ramp, her heels clicking softly on the polished surface.
Julian Mercer’s yacht was eerily quiet—colder, more calculated—less about luxury and more about control.
A guard nodded once, stepping aside as she approached. "Mr. Mercer is expecting you." Of course he was, she thought, a smirk playing on her lips.
Anna ascended onto the deck, her presence marked by her heels against the sleek flooring. The air was thick with salty breath and the faint scent of expensive cologne.
“Right on time," Julian Mercer emerged from the shadows of the upper staircase, impeccably composed, dapper in his suit, wi
