Isla’s POV
By the time my cab stopped outside the venue Rico had sent earlier, the sky was between grey and sliver, clouds stretched thin like brushed paint across glass towers reflecting the last of the sunset. I stepped out, pulling my coat tighter around myself as cold air brushed my bare legs.
Note to self: Seattle weather is never to be trusted, it looked warm, it wasn’t.
The restaurant sat tucked between two taller buildings, understated glass frontage, soft golden lighting spilling through wide windows.
Elegant.
Of course Rico would pick somewhere like this. I checked my reflection quickly in the darkened glass before entering.
Hair loose. Simple black dress. Minimal makeup.
Zayne’s voice flashed briefly in my head.
‘You look dangerous when you pretend you didn’t try.’
He
