The second night in Milan felt heavier than the first.
Maybe it was the weight of the city itself—the centuries of power, wealth, and whispered deals layered into its foundations. Or maybe it was just the dress Kieth’s people had laid out for her again, another silent reminder that nothing she wore, ate, or did was left to her own choice anymore.
The gown was midnight blue, velvet that clung like a second skin and caught the light with every movement. Elegant, expensive, a statement that screamed his.
When she emerged from her room, she found Kieth waiting in the suite’s living room, already dressed in another tuxedo, crisp lines and silver cufflinks. He looked up, his gaze traveling over her without apology.
“You clean up well,” he said at last, voice even.
She forced herself not to
