The invitation came wrapped in silk and poison.
A white envelope with the gold-embossed crest of Valeria’s new front: The Dominion Initiative. Delivered by hand to Damien’s private suite, bypassing every layer of his security.
Inside, a single line in her signature script.
“One final proposal. Midnight. Suite 1702. No guards. No lies.”
Gabriel scowled the moment he saw it. “She wants to lure you into a trap.”
“Maybe,” Damien replied, slipping the card back into its envelope.
“But Valeria doesn’t beg for meetings. If she’s reaching out now… she’s either desperate, or cocky.”
“Both,” Gabriel muttered.
“And Isla can’t know.”
Damien’s gaze flickered toward the closed bedroom door.
She’d just stepped into the shower minutes ago. Her laughter still echoed in the corners of his mind…
