POV: Killian
Two days passed before Florence finally texted a time and place. My penthouse, ten at night, made the most sense for both of us. My staff would be long gone by that hour, and neither of us had to worry about some overeager assistant or nosy doorman clocking her arrival.
The elevator chimed at ten thirty. I set my glass down on the marble island, crossed the living room, and pulled the door open before she could ring twice.
"Hey," she said quietly, glancing around my living room as she stepped past me, her heels silent on the hardwood.
I opened my mouth to respond, watched her shrug out of her jacket, and lost the thought entirely somewhere between my brain and my tongue.
The dress underneath was short. Criminally short.
My eyes dragged over her without permission, tracin
