Elena’s heart hammered as the man crossed the threshold into Damien’s penthouse like he belonged there. He moved with the calm of someone who was used to power, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on her. Something in his eyes made her skin prickle—a strange combination of recognition and calculation.
Damien closed the door behind him, his posture rigid. “You weren’t invited.”
“And yet here I am,” the man replied, his voice like ice water—controlled, sharp, and cold. “We both know time is running out.”
Elena stepped closer to Damien, instinctively seeking his presence. “Who is he?” she whispered.
The man offered a thin smile. “I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Nicholas Voss. Damien knows me quite well.”
Elena looked up at Damien, but his expression didn’t change.
