Phei sat on the wide windowsill for what felt like ten minutes but was probably closer to twelve—long enough for the garden lights to shift from cool silver to warmer amber as the estate's automated system adjusted for the deepening night.
The view was hypnotic with manicured hedges glowing like velvet under uplighting, reflecting pools rippling with faint moonlight, the distant fountain sending up thin silver threads that caught the air like liquid starlight.
He didn't move. Didn't fidget.
Just breathed, slow and steady, letting the house settle around him.
Then he felt her presence.
Before the soft shuffle of wool slippers on marble reached his ears, before the faint rustle of terry cloth or the whisper of damp skin, he felt her.
A shift in the air—warmer, heavier, scented with shower steam, crushed gardenia, and the sharp, intimate bite of gin on her breath.
The room exhaled slowly, like a woman arching her back.
