AMALIA's POV
Trevor's hand never left my waist.
Even as we walked.
Even as people stepped aside to let us pass.
Even as I kept my posture straight and my expression composed. I didn't know what was going on in his head but i didn't fight it or react.
I couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort but I felt it.
Every second of it.
As we moved deeper into the lounge, past the music, past the laughter, into a quieter hallway where the air felt colder… sharper.
I saw Dante.
He stood at the far end, partially shadowed, like he had always been there. Wraching everything.
His eyes met mine for a brief second and he gave me a small nod. It was subtle, bareky noticeable but enough.
It steadied something in me. I wasn't alone.
Trevor pushed open a door without knocking.
A private office. The door shut behind us with a quiet click. It was too quiet
I noted the layout instantly.
One door.
No visible cameras.
Large glass window but tinted.
No easy exits.
