Dax let the door close softly behind Mia, the faint scent of her perfume fading down the drive. For a moment there was only the hiss of the sea outside and the muffled clatter of a car pulling away.
He turned to Chris. The younger man stood just inside the threshold, shoulders squared as if bracing for a blow, hands buried in his pockets. In the low light of the hall, his hair looked almost black-blue, the suit fitting him like it had been waiting for him all along. The slippers gave him away, though, a quiet detail Dax found more grounding than any court uniform.
"Come," Dax said quietly.
Chris followed without a word, the soft soles of his slippers making no sound against the marble. The villa's long corridor swallowed the echo of the closing door behind them; ahead, only the muted hum of the sea and the faint burn of lantern light at each archway.
