ELORA

I had no business being here. I knew it the moment I stepped into the Grayson family estate. The air was thick with expensive silence. Not the cozy, opulent kind—but the tense, tight-lipped sort that whispered of secrets, power plays, and well-fed predators in designer suits.

I was supposed to come, eat, and leave. That was the deal I had with Rowen.

Now, seated beside Rowen Grayson at a long oak dining table that could host a medieval war council, I felt like the hunted instead of a guest.

The clink of cutlery stopped. My mouth was dry, but all I could do to help me from speaking up...