Page 102 of Kentrell

She walked deeper into the space, stopping in front of the windows, her fingers grazing the sheer drapes as she stared out over the water.

“You wake up to this?” she asked.

“Every morning.”

She looked over her shoulder at me. “This is beautiful, Kentrell. It’s not what I expected.”

“What’d you expect?”

She shrugged, lips curved in a soft smirk. “Something… darker. Moodier. More ‘I’ve got bodies in the basement’ energy.”

I chuckled. “Basement don’t come with the penthouse.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the view. “I’m serious. This feels… clean. Calm.”

“It’s mine,” I said simply. “Wanted a space I could breathe in.”

She nodded, slowly walking toward the kitchen. Her fingers ran across the edge of the island, then tapped lightly on the top of one of the bar stools.

“You cook in here too?”

“Only when I want peace and quiet.”

“Which is… often?”

“Often enough.”

She grinned and spun around to face me, leaning back against the counter like she was making herself at home.

And I didn’t mind that shit at all.

“This feels like you,” she said. “Stylish. Private. Just enough mystery to keep people from asking too many questions.”

I smirked as I stepped further inside. “That what you think I am?”

“I think you’re a lot of things,” she said, voice low and curious.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You comfortable here?”

She paused. Met my eyes. “Yeah. I am.”

I nodded, stepping closer, the distance between us closing slow.

“Good,” I said.

Because I wasn’t ready for her to leave.

Not yet.

“When’s the last time you took some time off?” I asked as I stepped into her space, sliding between her legs where she leaned against the island. She welcomed me naturally, arms wrapping around my waist like she’d been waiting for me all day.

“Mmm,” she hummed, eyes glancing to the side. “I’ve been so busy…”

“That’s not what I asked.”

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