"Where are you going?"
The question came from a sultry voice behind him, tinged with curiosity and just a hint of annoyance. Nolan turned slightly to glance at the speaker—Rachel—her blonde hair cascading loosely across the pillow as she propped herself up on one elbow. The silk sheet barely covered her chest, teasing enough to make most men forget their name.
But Nolan wasn't like most men.
He stood near the edge of the room, meticulously buttoning up his crisp black shirt, his movements unhurried and deliberate. His golden hair gleamed under the cool night light streaming through the massive glass windows, each strand perfectly in place as if the moon itself was admiring him.
"There's someone I want to meet," Nolan said coolly, his voice deep and smooth as aged wine.
