Vael pushed open the door to the penthouse suite. The city lights sprawled beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, which reflected off every polished surface. Exhaustion clung to him like a second skin after endless meetings—boardrooms, handshakes, negotiations that blurred into one another. His tailored suit felt constricting, the knot of his tie a noose he longed to loosen.
Vessara was sprawled on the wide leather couch, her long legs draped over the armrest, giggling softly at whatever flashed across her phone screen.
The moment the door shut, she jerked upright, her floral silk mini nightdress pulling up her thighs. The delicate fabric, patterned with soft pink blossoms against cream, clung to her curves, and the hem barely skimming the swell of her ass. She stood, bare feet padding across the cool marble floor.
"Vael," she greeted, her voice warm but tentative. Her eyes scanned his tired face.
