The rain continued its steady assault against the windows, a persistent drummer keeping time with the night. Liam Campbell stood motionless by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city's glittering expanse. His reflection—dark hair tousled, brow furrowed—overlaid the urban canvas below.
Something wasn't right.
He couldn't pin it down precisely, but the feeling had been building all evening. A hotel staff member who'd held his gaze a beat too long in the lobby. A momentary flicker in the hallway lights as they'd entered the suite. Small things. Inconsequential things.
Things that shouldn't have made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"You're doing it again," Isabella's voice, warm with amusement, cut through his thoughts.
Liam turned to find her lounging on the cream-colored sofa, two crystal glasses of cabernet in hand. The burgundy liquid caught the light as she extended one toward him.
