Cole had been watching from the balcony.
One floor above, behind smoked glass, he stood in his usual tailored black, a tumbler of bourbon forgotten in his hand. The club throbbed with dim red light and soft moans below, shadows of bodies flickering across velvet walls. But his eyes never left her.
Aria.
Hair a little messy. Lips swollen. Walk uneven—subtle, but not to him. She was trying to be discreet, trying to mask the aftermath of a good f*****g. That would’ve amused him… if it wasn’t someone else who had given it to her.
His jaw clenched, the muscle twitching under the weight of restraint. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. Just watched her. Her fingertips trailed along the gold rail by the staircase. Her dress was different from earlier. Not her choice. Elias had likely brought it in
