Davina's POV
"I'm still trying to process you actually dating Irvin Jenkin," Chase murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking louder might shatter whatever fragile calm we had managed to find. A bitter laugh escaped him. "Irvin Jenkin. The Jenkin prince. Untouchable Irvin.
Nobody in Meridian terrified me more than Irvin. Not even his old man."
He stopped, shaking his head like he still couldn't believe it. "Irvin Jenkin made his father look soft. Ice-cold. Remote.
Lethal."
I stayed quiet. What could I say? That version of Irvin haunted my memories too.
I could still picture watching him from afar, how entire rooms would go rigid when he entered. He never spoke unless absolutely necessary. Never smiled. Like some marble god in expensive clothes—unreachable, unreadable, and impossibly compelling.
That Irvin who barely cracked a smile, always buried in his phone or scanning his environment with bored indifference whenever he showed up at Velvet with his crew.
