Maurice Miranda's POV
If someone had told me a month ago that I’d end up living in a sleek, polished apartment named after MCC, I would’ve laughed in their face. I mean, seriously, me? In this kind of place? With marble floors and complimentary lemon-infused water in the lobby? That version of me felt so far away now. Life had been moving in directions I couldn’t control, like a cart on rails someone else built. And weirdly, I didn’t even want to jump off anymore.
But what really made it strange—comforting, even—was the fact that I wasn’t alone in all of it.
Leland.
He’s the kind of guy you don’t notice right away. Not because he’s invisible—God no, the man looks like he walked straight out of a luxury fashion magazine—but because he’s quiet. Calculated. Gentle in a way that doesn’t as
