The morning air was crisp—too crisp—biting at Eli's skin like sharp teeth as he stood outside Aureum Gold.
The city hadn't fully woken yet. Stray voices drifted from the sidewalks, snippets of early workers chatting.
Cars rumbled low in the distance. The skyline was painted gold, the sun stretching across glass towers in long, lazy beams.
And there Eli was.
Stiff.
Wrapped in black velvet.
It hadn't even been his choice. Elione's closet was a damn circus—designer tuxedos, embroidered jackets that sparkled when the light hit them, blazers that looked like they belonged on magazine covers.
Half of them felt like costumes, not clothes.
This one—the sleek black velvet suit—was the least obnoxious option.
Quiet. Simple. Or at least, as quiet as velvet could get.
Still, it clung to him wrong. Like someone else's skin.
