Unwilling to impose, Vera made a swift exit.

Once she’d gone, Waylen sauntered over to the door, closing it with a soft click.

Turning back, he found Rena’s gaze fixed on him.

Approaching, he picked up a crystal glass, sniffing its contents.

Rena’s visage, flushed, revealed her inebriation.

Settling beside her, Waylen delicately swept back her hair, his tone tender.

“Are you still upset?”

bar counter, gazed into the nocturnal abyss

anyone wants. Is it concern

smiled, a confession in one

“Jealousy.”

braced for a

his gentleness disarmed her, breeding a mix of frustration and

no setting

They departed together.

the driver’s seat of his black Rolls-Royce, Waylen, still in his formal attire, resembled

Rena averted her gaze.

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