Nora's POV
Mikhail's Penthouse – 9:02 p.m.
The elevator doors seal behind me with a hiss that sounds like a cage snapping shut.
I step into his kingdom.
The penthouse is a cathedral of glass and shadow.
City lights bleed through floor-to-ceiling windows, a glittering carpet of diamonds thirty stories below.
The air is cold, crisp, laced with cedar and gun oil and the faint bite of his cologne that used to live on my skin.
He's waiting.
Leaning against the obsidian bar, backlit by the skyline like a fallen angel who bought the heavens and burned them for fun.
Shirtless, chest gleaming enough to reveal the ink I never remembered him having.
He doesn't move.
Just watches me with those glacier eyes that used to make me forget my own name.
"Too
