Julian leaned against the marble kitchen island, his fingers drumming a slow, rhythmic beat on the cold surface. He watched Sarah. She sat on the oversized velvet sofa, her legs tucked under her, a glass of wine held tight in both hands. The amber light of the living room caught the gold chain around her neck, drawing his eyes to the soft hollow of her throat.
"You're quiet tonight, Sarah," Marcus said.
Marcus lounged beside her, his arm draped across the back of the sofa. He didn't touch her, but the proximity was a claim. He was the fire to Julian's ice—all sharp angles, loud laughter, and an appetite for risk that usually left Julian cleaning up the mess.
Sarah offered a small, fragile smile. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit," Elena chimed in.
Elena stood by the window, the city
