DOMAN’S POV

Sophia’s perfume lingered long after she left, a sweet, cloying scent that mixed poorly with the burn of whiskey on my breath.

I leaned back on the couch, closing my eyes for a second. Peace was all I wanted. But she wasn’t peace. She was ambition dressed in soft skin and deceitful smiles.

“You can’t stay the night,” I told her, voice firm and my patience already stretched thin.

Her eyes had flashed with something close to defiance. “You’re sending me out ...