Arianna’s POV
The next morning, the smell of coffee drifted through the hotel lobby like salvation. I hadn’t slept properly, and my brain felt like static.
When I entered the breakfast lounge, I spotted Elliot immediately—bright, talkative, the exact opposite of the man sitting beside him.
Killian.
Perfect posture. Coffee cup in hand. Reading the morning paper like the universe's most pressing secrets were printed on page two.
Elliot noticed me first and waved with so much cheer. “Good morning, sunshine! You look alive. Barely, but alive.”
I forced a polite smile and joined them. “Morning.”
Killian didn’t look up, but I could feel the shift—the faint awareness that I was there.
“So,” Elliot continued, either oblivious or bravely needling, “slept well after the dramatic exit last ni
