Roy Shen's black Bentley glided to a smooth, silent stop beneath the Nebula Hotel's glowing portico.
“We're here.”
He turned his head, the neon lights of Hong Kong bleeding across his profile in jagged streaks of color.
I unbuckled the seatbelt, the click unnervingly loud in the hushed cabin.
I pushed the heavy door open and stepped out into the thick, humid night. A stray breeze caught the loose strands of hair at my temples—a fleeting, warm caress.
“Thanks for today, Roy. Get some rest.”
My voice carried a bone-deep weariness I couldn't quite hide.
Roy hopped out too, rounding the car to lean against the driver's side, arms folded as he tracked my movement.
I caught the look and frowned.
“Give me a break. Not tonight,”I said, a hand drifting to my midsection.“My stomach is still
