The city was drowning in midnight. A thin veil of fog slid through the streets like something alive, coiling around lampposts, brushing against the glass walls of the luxury hotel where Rafael waited.

He hadn’t meant to call her.

He hadn’t meant to want her.

But Maya arrived anyway—with heels clicking like a verdict and eyes as sharp as a blade freshly unsheathed.

When she stepped into the secluded private lounge, the low amber lights cast shadows over her cheekbones, making her look like something carved from temptation and danger.

Rafael pushed away his glass of whiskey.

“You came,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

Maya shrugged, removing...