Rafael
The elevator doors slid open to reveal my penthouse, but instead of the silence I expected, music drifted from the living room. I stepped inside, my jaw already clenching with irritation.
"Marcus!" I called out, loosening my tie as I walked toward the sound.
I found him sprawled across my Italian leather sofa, a tumbler of my expensive whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. He looked up when I entered, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
"Well, well. Look who finally decided to come home." Marcus raised his glass in mock salute. "How was your evening of stalking, Rafael? Did you at least manage not to get arrested this time?"
"What the hell are you doing in my house?"
"Drinking your whiskey and enjoying your view. This place really is spectacular at night." Marc
