Chapter 65 The Dance Of Desire

The moment the elevator doors slid open, the penthouse breathed wealth. Velvet shadows played across marble floors, and warm amber light dripped down from a chandelier like molten gold. Tall windows framed the night skyline, all glass and glitter, a quiet audience to the storm churning between them. Silas stepped in first, fingers curled at his side, jaw ticking with something unspoken. He looked out of place in this kind of opulence, too raw, too dangerous, too real. Yet somehow, he belonged. The sharp lines of his suit fit him like a threat barely leashed, and the way he moved through the room suggested ownership that went beyond keys or contracts.