The penthouse suite stretched out behind him, two floors of glass and gold-veined marble, the kind of place designed for presidents, oil magnates, and Gulf royalty.
It was a birthday gift, technically. A gesture from one of his father's associates. But to Craig, it felt more like a promo, the kind you didn't ask for, the kind you got just for being born into the right family. He didn't need it. Would've never stayed . But Adriana had insisted. Claimed he should be celebrating somewhere that came with skyline views and silk sheets straight out of Milan.
He leaned on the terrace rail now, watching the city stretch and shimmer beneath the early sun. Morning after the chaos. Or a lie. Lately, he couldn't tell the difference.
Behind him, Adriana heels tapped softly against the marble floor, moving closer.
"You good? You've been a little out of it," she said without ceremony.
He didn't turn around. "You noticed."
