Logan Mason had always been untouchable in the industry. Scandals rolled off him, headlines bent to his charm, and audiences adored him no matter how arrogant or reckless he became. But for the first time, Aurora Sage could feel the ground shifting beneath his feet.
And it was because of her.
The studio meeting had ended with a fragile truce, but Aurora had read enough faces in her life to know when someone was plotting. Clara especially. The woman's silence was a blade hidden in silk, too calm, too polished. Aurora had killed enough double agents to recognize the performance.
Back in the penthouse, Logan sprawled on the couch, shirt unbuttoned halfway, drink in hand. The city lights poured through the glass, setting his figure in sharp relief—the image of a man who believed he owned the world.
"You're glaring again," he said lazily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "If you're going to kill me with your eyes, Sage, at least wait until I finish my drink."
