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28. Seven

Anya

The penthouse elevator door slides open with a silent, practiced ease, the quiet opulence of the foyer swallowing my rapid footsteps. It’s been seven days since I last saw Bastien, seven days since he demanded space, a trial for both of us that felt more like a silent agony than a respite.

As I cross the threshold, the scent of him—the crisp edge of his cologne mixed with the underlying current of his strength—fills my senses, a heady reminder of what I’ve been craving. My heart thunders in my chest, a frantic Drumline to the chaos of my thoughts.

I hesitate only for a heartbeat before I launch myself into the expanse of the penthouse, propelled by a force I can’t, and don’t want to, resist. The door to his office is ajar, a sliver of light beckoning me toward the man who’s been both my captor and my unwitting savior.

There he stands, a figure carved from the very essence of power and restrained danger, his silhouette framed against the window that overlooks the city he commands.
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