Roman stepped into the apartment and immediately felt the weight of someone else’s presence.

The lights were dim, the air thick with the faint smell of wine. His jaw tightened as his eyes landed on the familiar figure sprawled comfortably on his couch, legs crossed, glass in hand.

“Bro, you’re back,” Rebecca said casually, lifting her glass slightly.

Roman stopped in his tracks. “What are you doing here?” His tone was sharp, clipped.

She shrugged, unbothered. “I figured you might need company. Judging by your face, I was right.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he loosened his tie, walked over to the minibar, and poured himself a stiff drink. He downed...