The restaurant shimmered like a private world carved out of the city’s chaos.
Candlelight spilled across crystal glasses and plates rimmed with gold, reflecting in Mya’s eyes as she laughed—really laughed—for what felt like the first time in weeks.
No cameras. No reporters. Just them.
Keith sat beside her, relaxed in a dark button-down that clung to his shoulders every time he leaned forward. Across the table, Adrian and Trina were an unexpected kind of beautiful—her animated and glowing, him reserved but clearly intrigued, a slow smile breaking through his lawyer’s composure every time she said something clever.
Cameron had insisted on renting out the entire restaurant for them that night—“Cross privilege,” he’d said with a wink—and now, as soft music played and waiters hovered at a r
