Simple.
Right.
We pulled up outside her building, and my stomach clenched.
She was already waiting on the sidewalk, hands tucked into the pockets of a jacket that looked oversized and somehow perfect on her. Dark jeans. Boots. Hair loose around her shoulders.
What some might call dressed-down casual.
To me, it looked likefuck me right now on the back seatattire.
Get a grip, Ward.
Ellsworth got out and opened the door for her with a polite nod. She smiled at him, then slid into the seat beside me.
The scent of her hit me immediately—clean, soft, familiar.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
The car pulled away from the curb, and for a moment, we just sat there in silence.
Then she turned to me, eyes curious. "Where are you taking me?"
I'd debated this part all day. Hell, I'd even asked Ellsworth for his opinion—something I'd never done before. And it was the butler who'd suggested bringing her to The Sanctuary. Fordrinks. Dinner. A conversation in a place where I controlled the environment.
I wondered what Micah would think about that.
Then I remembered his words from before:You're free to invite friends or companions into The Sanctuary.
Personal visitors welcome.
"Somewhere safe," I said finally.
She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."
No questions. No hesitation.
Just trust.
God, that made it worse.
The Sanctuary looked different through her eyes.
I watched her take it in—the heavy door, the thick walls, the muted elegance of the interior. The kind of place that whispered money and danger in equal measure.
Her hand went to her camera instinctively, lifting it.
I reached out and gently pushed it down.
"Not here," I said quietly.
Her eyes flicked to mine, and for a second, I thought she might argue. But she didn't. She just nodded, understanding without needing an explanation.
"Okay."
Ellsworth appeared with two glasses of champagne on a silver tray, because, of course, he did. Leave it to the butler to make the perfect choice.
