The city never slept, but tonight, Jason Jae’s penthouse felt suffocatingly silent. Manhattan sprawled beneath him, glittering like a kingdom he had conquered, yet the victory tasted hollow. His glass of bourbon sat untouched on the marble table. All he could see was her.
Gigi Jasmine.
The way she had stood in that gallery, light catching in her dark hair, her laugh soft but guarded, her presence magnetic even among the canvases and critics—Jason had never been struck like that before. Women had always been conquests, amusements, beautiful distractions to fill the silence with nights. But with her, it wasn’t amusement. It was a fire.
And then… There was the man.
Jason hadn’t forgotten him, the one standing outside the gallery that night. A tall figure lingering too long, too still, as
