The door closed behind them with a deep click, muffling the noise of the casino below.
Yelena stood near the window, half turned toward the skyline. The city lights shimmered against her crimson hair, catching the subtle movements when she shifted her posture. Her dress was expensive—dark, sleeveless, hugging her body like it was made for her alone. A glass of something red sat in her hand.
"Xavier," she said, her tone smooth and cool, like she'd rehearsed his name a few times in her head before saying it out loud. "You've made quite the mess downstairs."
Xavier smiled faintly and walked in, his steps steady, his energy calm but sharp. "You call that a mess? I was just warming up."
It was their third meeting, but the atmosphere between Xavier and Yelena still held that unfamiliar weight—respect laced with tension, curiosity mixed with quiet calculation. They weren't friends. Not yet. But both knew the other was worth remembering.
