The penthouse of the Shard had changed, no longer felt like a throne room.
It felt… lived in.
And....
Dangerous in a different way.
The cold, sterile glass-and-chrome aesthetic that had once defined Reid Sterling's reign was gone.
Replaced with Oregon wood, worn textures, and traces of a life that wasn't built for display. There were books left open. Coffee mugs abandoned mid-thought. A quiet kind of chaos.
My kind of chaos
I sat at the massive oak desk, legs tucked beneath me, a pencil tapping lightly against my lip as I studied the layout in front of me that now technically belonged to the head of the Gable Foundation with a stack of floor plans in front of me.
But I wasn't looking at energy grids or urban developments.
I was looking at seating charts.
"Three inches to the left," a voice murmured behind me.
I felt the heat of Reid before I felt his touch.
