He wasn’t hiding. He didn’t need to.
He was already there. Watching the moment tighten beneath her skin.
Watching her steady herself.
And she didn’t even know it.
She wasn’tready to face him.
Not yet.
She didn’t knowwhat he knew in his bones…
That she was meant for more than this place.
More than this world built on whispers and glass.
More than these people who saw her only as something to possess.
Especially Gideon Blackwell.
His fingers tightenedaround his glass at the sight of him: the entitlement in his posture, the hunger in his gaze.
Blackwell watchedher like he owned her.
A new treasure. A captured flame.
But she wasn’t an acquisition.
She wasn’t a fucking prize.
She was a storm waiting to tear everything apart.
And she deservedsomeone who knew better than to contain her.
Someone who knew her worth.
Someone like him.
So he’d wait.
Let her believe this place was hers.
Let her grow comfortable, convinced she’d found a sanctuary.
Because soon,the truth would find her.
And when it did, he’d be there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hers.
?
“You’re here late.”
