Morning knocked on the curtains and was denied like a poor relative at a noble wedding.
The room stayed dim, thick with amber light, drawn curtains, warm air, expensive sheets, and the kind of silence that only came after a bed had been thoroughly sinned in. The world outside could wait, burn, celebrate, gossip, assassinate someone's reputation over breakfast, or stage another marble-floor family tragedy for the internet to caption.
None of that mattered here.
This room had already hosted its own holy disaster.
Phei stood at the foot of the bed, bare-chested beneath the low glow, and looked at the wreckage with quiet satisfaction.
Valentina lay in the center of the bed, naked beneath a loose fall of sheets, her body sprawled in the heavy, shameless exhaustion, she had begged to be pushed past her pride and had received exactly what she ordered.
