The warmth of the afternoon faded long before it reached the top floors of Azul Mirage.
From his office, Darren watched the Strip glitter beneath him—a sea of neon and motion that promised pleasure to anyone foolish enough to believe in it. To him, it was noise. A game he'd already mastered.
He leaned back in his chair, a glass of scotch untouched beside him, his phone screen glowing faintly with an image he hadn't meant to open. A photo Carlos had sent earlier.
Ophelia.
Sitting under an oak tree on campus, sunlight caught in her hair, a smile tugging at her lips—unguarded, uncalculated. It wasn't the composed young woman he'd left behind that morning. It was something else. Something freer.
His jaw flexed.
He told himself he was only checking in. Making sure she stayed out of trouble. But the longer he stared at that picture, the tighter his grip on the phone became.
She looked… happy.
And it unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
