"HUNGRY?" Grayson asked as he steered the car toward a quiet, sun-drenched street lined with high-end bistros.
They had settled into a routine that felt dangerously like a real life. Every morning, they drove to work. Until the afternoon, they navigated the strange, polite wars of the corporate world. And every evening, they returned to the estate, where the shadows were friendly and the world felt small enough to hold.
"Starving. But somewhere quiet."
"I think I noticed a place," he said, a mysterious glint in his eye. "It has a very thick door that blocks out the sound of people talking about quarterly earnings."
Mailah wanted to laugh. Somehow that was quite important to him more than food.
The bistro was called L'Ombre—The Shadow. It was tucked away in a cobblestone alley, filled with the scent of roasted garlic and expensive wine.
