Dom
Cigar smoke curled in lazy ribbons above me, catching the glow of the chandelier. My penthouse was sharp steel and glass, more showpiece than home. That was intentional. Nobody came here to be comfortable. They came to be impressed—or broken.
Eva sat on the edge of the leather sofa, still in the red dress from last night. The silk was wrinkled now, dulled by morning light. Her legs were crossed, one heel dangling, but her fingers trembled as she reached for her glass.
“You look like you haven’t slept,” I said, exhaling smoke.
Her smile was brittle. “Hard to sleep when you’ve been locked out of your own life.” She slammed the glass onto the table, too loud, too sharp. “Everything’s gone. My cards, my apartment. He erased me overnight.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, stu
