Seraphina's POV
After last night with Lucien, we got back to the penthouse late.
Too late.
I could still feel the weight of his suit jacket on my shoulders. I felt it in the way the air in the car had grown thick enough to choke on, and in the way his eyes hadn't stopped looking at me.
As if he were memorizing a map of my soul. It was dangerous. Not because of his reputation or the contract we'd signed, but because of the way my pulse hammered against my ribs every time he shifted in his seat.
I was losing my footing. I was a woman who was now living by logic, a woman who had built a fortress around her heart to survive a den of vipers, and yet, one night of quiet gentleness from Lucien Rhys had me wanting to lean into the flame.
