The night skyline of Manhattan stretched before Jason like an endless canvas of neon fire and restless stars, but for once, it offered him no comfort. He had always looked down at the city with the cold detachment of a man who owned half of what glittered beneath him. Tonight, though, the city seemed smaller, suffocating, and strangely mocking.
He paced the length of his penthouse office, long strides, hands buried deep in his pockets, trying to burn off the agitation coiled in his chest. His mind replayed every second at Bellamy Gallery—her voice sharp as broken glass, her eyes colder than the marble floor beneath her heels.
Gigi Jasmine Bellamy.
She had a way of dismissing him that he wasn’t used to. Women of her beauty didn’t look through Jason Jae as though he were a nuisance to end
