The private lift opened into a foyer of white oak floors and soft, recessed lighting—empty, waiting—modern, quiet, and expensive in the way old money always was: understated, confident, untouchable.
Viper stepped out, boots silent on the polished planks.
Even after all these years, places like this scratched something beneath his ribs—memory layered over memory. Cocktail parties. Fundraisers. His mother’s voice drifting from a grand piano. His father discussing oil leases over whiskey old enough to have its own trust fund.
A life he’d taken a break from.
“Take a breath,” Pierce murmured, shrugging out of his coat. “You’ve been here a thousand times.”
Viper didn’t answer. His gaze had already tracked movement in the living room.
A woman stood in the living room—dark hair pinned in a sleek twist, emerald silk blouse, gold hoops catching the city lights. She turned as they approached, a slow smile breaking across her face.
“Reid!”
He knew that smile.
One of his best friends in the damn world. They talked every month or so, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her standing there.
“Lena.” His throat tightened. He’d missed the hell out of her.
Lena Beaumont crossed the space in three quick, unhesitating strides and wrapped her arms around him—tight, fierce, like someone reclaiming a missing piece.
He hugged her back, one hand braced between her shoulders, breathing her in. Clean perfume. Expensive. Familiar in a way that scraped old memories loose.
“Too damned long,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “It has.”
Pierce tossed his keys onto a marble tray. “Called her the second you rang. Figured you might want a friendly face.”
Viper huffed a breath that could’ve been a laugh. “Didn’t think I rated backup.”
“You don’t,” Pierce said, grinning. “She was already dressed.”
Lena swatted Pierce’s arm without looking at him. Her attention stayed fixed on Reid—eyes bright, taking him in head to toe with that fierce, assessing look she always gave him. The one that said he needed a damn keeper.
“You look tired,” she said softly.
Viper’s jaw flexed. “Long month.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
Pierce clapped his hands once. “All right. Enough sentiment. Reid needs a suit, a shave, and to stop looking like he crawled out of the desert.”
Lena smiled, heading toward the hallway. “Good thing you two are the same size. Come on, Kensington. Let’s fix you up.”
“Hey…” he said softly, and they both halted to face him. “Let’s call it a night.” He checked his watch. “By the time I getcleaned up and dressed, and get back there, it’ll be damned near three in the morning.”
“Oh, thank God,” Lena laughed.
Pierce dropped into the nearest leather chair, already toeing off his shoes. “Good call. You do look like hell, big bro.”
Viper exhaled, long and low. The burn of exhaustion crawled under his skin. “Yeah. I’m dead on my feet.”
“Too tired for a movie?” Lena asked gently.
