The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, releasing Camille into the dimly lit hallway of the penthouse floor. Her heartbeat was still thudding from the gala from the conversations, the stares, the whispered gossip, the unwanted reminder of her past. But none of that compared to the look Dante had given her all night.
A look that followed her.
A look that burned.
A look she felt in places she didn't want to acknowledge.
She took a slow breath and pushed open the penthouse door. Inside, the living room was quiet, shadows dancing across the walls from the city lights filtering through the tall windows.
Dante was there.
Of course he was.
Standing by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled, his posture sharp and commanding like he owned not just the room, but the air inside it.
He didn't turn immediately. He didn't need to. She felt him register her presence like a shift in gravity itself.
"Camille."
His voice was low, calm… too calm, considering what happened tonight.
