The Velvet Anchor held its breath as Jayla leaned her head against her palm, mirroring Andrés's casual sprawl with deliberate mockery. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs—part adrenaline, part something dangerously close to anticipation—but her face stayed cool, unreadable.
"Make it quick, Andrés. I have a date with a bottle of wine and a book that has a much better plot than this."
Andrés tilted his head, a shadow of a smirk curling his lips like smoke. "The wedding. Eric and Janet. It's in two weeks. Are you planning on crashing it? I can provide the entry, the explosives, or just a front-row seat to watch the fallout."
