Bellemere Mansion, Holmby Hills, Los Angeles.
The Rolls-Royce Ghost Black Badge slowed gracefully as it climbed the long, manicured driveway, its glossy obsidian body reflecting the last hints of twilight.
At the apex, it came to a halt before the mansion's grand front steps, its engine purring to a soft silence.
The air outside was cooler than in Geneva, carrying with it the crisp scent of evening blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass.
Liam stepped out the moment Mason pulled open the rear door. His leather shoes touched the stone path, and he paused for just a second.
He closed his eyes.
The air here felt different. Softer. More familiar. It wasn't heavy with the polish and deliberate perfection of a hotel; it was gentler.
A faint night breeze brushed past, stirring the leaves of the tall trees that stood like guardians around the mansion.
A long breath slipped from Liam's lips and he smiled.
"I've missed this."
