Maeve woke up to a room that felt like a high-end hotel—cold, expensive, and completely devoid of soul. The sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse was far too bright, a sharp reminder that yesterday hadn't been a fever dream. It was her new reality. She was officially a Blackwood, and she was officially trapped.
She spent twenty minutes digging through her pink and gold suitcases, which were still piled in the center of the room. She purposely pulled out a silk robe in a shade of electric fuchsia that was far too bright for this gray apartment. If she had to live in Cassian’s monochrome prison, she was going to be the loudest thing in it.
When she walked into the kitchen, the smell of expensive coffee and burnt toast filled the air. Cassian was already the
