The glass pavilion was one of the architectural marvels I had dragged kicking and screaming out of my 21st-century memory bank. Perched on a cliffside extension of the Sovereign Wing, it overlooked the entire snow-dusted expanse of the West Way valley.
The floorboards were deep, dark cedar, laid over the newly stabilized underground heating stone so beautifully that you could walk barefoot across them even when the blizzard outside was rattling the frames.
Tonight, the glass was completely fogged at the edges, capturing the thick, rich warmth of the interior. A low, massive table carved from a single piece of polished walnut sat in the center of the room, piled high with thick sheepskin cushions and heavy velvet throws.
It was supposed to be a date night. A real, actual, adult date night.
