The elevator doors slid open, and Cassian stopped dead in his tracks. For a moment, he genuinely thought he had stepped off on the wrong floor. The sharp, masculine scent of cedar and expensive leather that usually defined his home was gone, replaced by the soft, floral fragrance of lilies and fresh white paint. The harsh, black-on-black furniture he had carefully selected to maintain his focus was missing, replaced by soft white textures, plush rugs, and gold accents that shimmered in the evening light.
"What on earth have you done?" Cassian asked, his voice low and vibrating with disbelief. He walked slowly into the living room, staring at a cream-colored velvet sofa as if it were a dangerous intruder.
"This looks like a showroom for a high-end bridal magazine, Maeve. My apartment is
