The 40th floor of the Grand Horizon Suite felt less like a hotel room and more like a private glass box suspended in the night sky. The sprawling suite was minimalist, modern, and framed entirely by seamless floor-to-ceiling glass windows that wrapped around two full sides of the building, offering an uninterrupted, panoramic view of the bustling downtown strip far below.
Below them lay a sprawling sea of electric brilliance—arteries of crimson tail lights, shimmering gold high-rises, and neon signs buzzing in the velvet dark.
Sophia walked toward the glass, her glass of champagne held lightly between her fingers. She wore a sheer, champagne-colored silk slip dress that clung to every curve of her body, completely backless, with thin straps that crisscrossed over her shoulder blades. The
