Amara’s POV
Moving into the East Wing felt like crossing a border into enemy territory.
While the rest of the mansion was cold and grand, Adrian’s private suite was a fortress of shadows and steel. The walls were a deep, midnight charcoal, the furniture all low-profile leather and brushed metal. It was a room designed for a man who didn't want to be found, even when he was at home.
I stood in the center of the massive bedroom, clutching a box of my personal sketches. Two footmen were currently moving my clothes into the secondary walk-in closet.
"Put those in the sitting area," Adrian’s voice came from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, watching the invasion of his space with a look of guarded neutrality.
"I can do it," I said, my voice sounding small in the vast room.
"T
