A shadow moved near the terrace, long skirts in a modern cut of deep emerald green, sleek and elegant, with a subtle shimmer when it caught the light. Alexandra.
Gabriel's eyes found her instantly.
Hair swept up in a sculpted twist, she wore high heels like they were weapons, a minimalist fan held like a prop rather than a necessity. Every inch of her presence was deliberate: not their mother's severity, but something sharper, cooler, and lethal by design.
Relief unfurled in Gabriel's chest like a withheld breath, sharp and fleeting. He didn't let it show. He simply turned, deliberate and unhurried, each step laced with an almost royal poise.
He reached her with a faint tilt of his head, crystal glass still cradled elegantly in his fingers.
"You're late," he murmured. "I've been left for dead. Not just by my partner but also by the butler."
