Bright, analytical eyes swept over the man standing before her. She couldn't deny one simple truth—she had somehow found someone capable of matching her presence wherever they stood together. The realization pleased her more than she cared to admit, though her pride quickly buried it.
"You look... acceptable."
The understated compliment sounded more like self-defense than criticism. Giving Raymond too much credit was still something her pride stubbornly refused to do.
"Shall we?"
A graceful nod was all the answer he needed. Together, they crossed the mansion toward the private garage. The moment the security gates slid open, Phoebe's face instantly brightened.
"Ah! My Pinky Porsche!"
The delighted exclamation escaped before she could stop it. Beneath the gallery lights, her iconic pink Porsche 911 gleamed flawlessly, exactly as she had remembered it.
"We're taking your Porsche tonight?"
