Sofia

The private elevator doors slid open revealing the dimly lit interior of Luca's penthouse. "We have an hour," Luca said, checking the watch on his wrist as he strode toward the master bedroom, unbuttoning his cuffs.

"The meeting is at the Emerald," he threw over his shoulder. "It's a formal sit-down with The Commission."

"A meeting?" I asked, following him, "I thought you were taking me to see the grit."

"The grit is often wrapped in silk, Sofia," he said, stopping at the bedroom door ...