The morning sun spilled through the wide windows of the new hotel, gilding everything in soft gold. It was far nicer than the last place—modern, clean, and utterly quiet, as though Roman’s ownership extended to the air itself. Lorraine curled up on the edge of her bed, her coffee cooling untouched beside her. Sleep had been shallow at best, her dreams fractured between Dwade’s shadow and Roman’s touch.
Rhyan padded out of the bathroom, hair damp from her shower, and dropped onto the other bed with a sigh. “So… Dwade.” She ran a hand through her curls, frowning. “It’s crazy. He seemed so nice at first. Charming, even.”
Lorraine pressed her lips together. “That’s how people like him get away with everything. They hide behind good manners until you’re too deep to notice what’s underneath.”
