Aria

Grant’s driver dropped me off at the Pembroke estate.

I wasn’t here to cause a scene, not today. Last time was still simmering, and I knew better than to throw gasoline on embers that hadn’t died down yet.

I headed straight for the garage. My van, that’s what I came for.

Nothing else.

I popped the lock and slid into the driver’s seat like it was a second skin. Familiar. Safe. Mine.

Deep down, I didn’t want to stop dancing. It wasn’t just about the money. It was the one ...