Nash stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his charcoal-grey suit. Victoria had sent it to his mansion in The Obsidian Spires through a private runner. The fabric was heavy, expensive, and fit his large 193-centimeter frame perfectly. It completely hid the thick, hyper-optimized muscle underneath.
Zayela walked up behind him. She was wearing a simple tank top and shorts, her favorite, her dark braided hair tied up in a messy pile. She reached out, her fingers flattening his crisp white collar.
She didn't know anything about the dangers of this dinner. Nash had kept Hector's threat a secret so she wouldn't worry. She honestly thought Nash was just going to meet some rich bosses who were impressed by his playmaking.
"You look like a completely different person in this, Nash," Zayela said, laughing softly as she patted his chest. Her eyes were bright and happy.
