The suite smelled of white roses and champagne, the kind of heavy sweetness that made everything feel slower, hotter. Lara stood by the tall window in nothing but the pale silk robe, the tie loose enough that it slipped open every time she moved. Her skin still glowed pink from the bath. Tomorrow she’d wear white lace and vows. Tonight, the only thing she wore was want.
Sienna knocked once, then pushed the door open without waiting for an answer. She carried a leather folio under one arm, black blouse tucked into slim trousers, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her short waves were mussed from the wind outside. She looked at Lara—really looked—and the folio hit the side table with a soft thud.
“You’re late,” Lara said, voice low.
“Traffic.” Sienna’s eyes dropped to where the robe gaped, sho
