The penthouse suite was cloaked in shadows, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline at night. Rose stood before them, a solitary figure silhouetted against the twinkling lights, a half-empty glass of rich Merlot dangling from her fingers.
A sudden, insistent knock at the door made her start, the deep crimson liquid sloshing precariously against the sides of the glass. Rose frowned, her brow furrowing as she glanced towards the antique clock in the corner. Just past midnight. Who could be wanting her audience at this unholy hour?
"Enter," she called out, her voice steady despite the weariness weighing heavily upon her shoulders.
The door swung open with a soft creak, and a tall, imposing figure stepped across the threshold and into the dimly lit room.
Damien's chiseled features were partially obscured by the shadows, but his piercing gaze found Rose instantly, holding her immobile like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.
