The morning light filtered through the tall, stained-glass windows of the Laurent estate, cascading across the polished mahogany floors in dappled hues of crimson and gold. The estate seemed deceptively quiet, a soft breeze rustling the drapes, but tension hung thick in the air like an unspoken curse.
Anastasia sat at the long breakfast table, her silverware clinking delicately against the porcelain as she sliced into a croissant. Her eyes, however, remained soft , flitting to the man seated across from her. Dante Montgomery.
He was dressed immaculately, as always, in a tailored black suit with a charcoal waistcoat, his cufflinks catching the morning light. His butler had arrived just after his shower with the outfit, folded in pristine layers like he was royalty. His dark hair was swept back, freshly styled, his every movement radiating cold precision.
And then he chuckled.
The sound was low. Dangerous. It made her spine stiffen.
