The limo eased to a halt outside the Hotel d'Angleterre, tires whispering over the gravel like a secret shared with the night. The building stood there grand and timeless, its stone walls bathed in soft golden light from hidden spots, windows glowing warm against the dark.
Beyond it, Lake Geneva stretched out mysterious, its surface rippling under the moon like black silk stirred by a breeze. Devon shifted in his seat, eyes cracking open as the engine's low growl faded away. Sleep clung to him like fog, but he shook it off, running a hand through his messy hair, feeling the rough scratch of stubble on his jaw. "We there?" he mumbled, voice rough around the edges, peering out at the entrance where uniformed doormen waited like statues.
