DAMIEN
I click my tongue, amused, and lift my gaze back to the building, waiting.
She won’t keep me long.
She doesn’t.
Less than five minutes later, she appears—and whatever composure I had lined up dies on the spot.
For a second, I forget where I am.
Rhea steps outside and the world narrows to the sharp click of her heels on stone. The dark red wig frames her face like it was always meant to be there, soft waves catching the light and turning her into something dangerous, something I want to ruin and worship in the same breath. The black dress is lethal—clean lines, deliberate seams, fitted so tightly it looks painted on, hugging every curve she designed with her own hands and zero intention of mercy.
My chest tightens. Breathing becomes optional.
I straighten without thinking, fi
