The meeting request didn’t come with an agenda.
That alone made it dangerous.
Seraphina stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the fabric of her tailored charcoal dress. It wasn’t armor, but it was close. Neutral. Controlled. Powerful without provocation. The kind of outfit that didn’t beg for authority—it assumed it.
Lucien watched her from the doorway, jacket already on, expression unreadable.
“You don’t have to go alone,” he said.
She met his gaze in the mirror. “If I don’t, they’ll assume I’m protected. I need them to believe I’m independent.”
His jaw tightened. “You are protected.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “But not owned.”
That earned a faint, reluctant smile.
The car ride was quiet, the city sliding past in reflective steel and glass. The building they stopped in
