Alfred's Mansion
The car rolled to a stop at the edge of the estate, headlights slicing through the thick hush of midnight like a blade. The gravel beneath the tires crunched, loud in the otherwise perfect stillness, the night air holding that electric charge that only came before a storm—or something infinitely more dangerous.
Danica stepped out first, the cool air kissing her skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold. Anticipation shimmered down her spine like a lover's whisper. Her heart kicked hard against her ribs as the familiar, intoxicating scent of him—cologne and something darker—wrapped around her.
Alfred was beside her before she could even fully steady herself, his presence so commanding it made the entire world feel like it tilted to accommodate him. His hand slid around her waist, fingers splaying possessively, and in one fluid, impossible-to-protest move, he lifted her into his arms.
