The elevator ride down to the lobby felt like a slow descent into another kind of battlefield. Aurora Sage stood beside Logan Mason, her posture collected and unyielding, but her mind ran on overdrive. Every reflective surface—the mirrored walls, the gleaming chrome doors—reminded her how close his presence was. Logan's arm brushed hers occasionally, deliberate, like he wanted to remind her she couldn't slip away even if she tried.
He had changed in less than a minute: from the man who had pressed her against the glass upstairs with raw obsession in his eyes, to the confident celebrity about to face the press. But Aurora knew it was the same man. His masks were many, but beneath each was the same consuming need for control—over her, over the narrative, over everything.
"You'll walk beside me," Logan said, his tone casual, though the command beneath it was unmistakable. "Don't lag behind, don't vanish into the background. I want them to see you."
