The server room beneath Vance Private Intelligence was a cavern of absolute zero-tolerance security. Rows of sleek black server racks hummed with liquid-cooling systems, bathed in the icy blue glow of a dozen massive surveillance monitors.

Seraphina stood in the center of the room, her arms crosse

Rain lashed against the reinforced glass of Kaelen’s high-rise apartment, distorting the neon glow of the city below into a blur of smeared colors. The space was stark, minimalist, and deeply masculine—dark leather, polished concrete, and walls lined with encrypted servers and locked gun safes. It w

The flashbulbs erupted like a localized lightning storm the moment the limousine door opened.

Rain had slicked the pavement outside the Grand Ballroom of the Pierre Hotel, reflecting the chaotic strobes of the paparazzi who were crushed against the velvet ropes. Seraphina Vance sat in the leather