Gregoris had left Rafael sleeping and moved soundlessly through the suite until he reached the wardrobe room.
The lights stayed low. The house stayed quiet. Even the air felt trained to keep the noise to a minimum.
He changed with the same precise efficiency he used for everything that mattered. The charcoal silk came off without hurry. A crisp white shirt went on, each button done cleanly. Black dress pants, with a sharp crease. Black stone cufflinks, cool and unremarkable until they caught the light and reminded you he never wore anything that could be grabbed, bent, or used against him.
He shrugged his coat over his broad shoulders and took his dress shoes in hand, refusing to let the sound of them announce him.
Then he returned to the bedroom.
