The first light of dawn was just beginning to bleed through the heavy curtains of the penthouse, casting the room in soft, grey shadows. It was only 5:00 AM, but Raya found herself blinking awake, her mind already humming. She hadn't moved an inch since they’d collapsed; she was still tucked firmly against Killian’s side, his heavy arm draped possessively over her waist, his scent—woodsmoke and expensive whiskey—clinging to the sheets.
She lay there in the quiet, listening to the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart against her back.
She thought about the night before—the way he had stood up to Miss Langley, the cold dismissal of his ex-wife, and the way he had looked at her when he slipped that emerald onto her finger. It wasn't just the passion, though that had been world-shaking; it wa
