Velvet Passions: 8. Aftermath of the Confession

Morning had a way of making things ordinary that were never meant to be.

Sunlight threaded through the hotel curtains, laying pale stripes across the bed. Rose sat upright, legs tucked beneath her, Adrian’s shirt draped loosely over her shoulders. He had showered already, steam still ghosting from the bathroom, the sound of water cut off but the echo of it clinging to the air.

She should have left before dawn. That was the rule she had written in her head: enter when called, leave when finished, keep the edges sharp. But she had slept beside him—really slept, not just collapsed into exhausted stillness. And that felt like the most reckless act of all.

“Coffee?” His voice broke into her thoughts. He stood in the doorway, hair damp, a white towel slung low around his hips. It was such a simple question, one that should have belonged to ordinary couples, not to dangerous men and desperate dancers.

“Yes,” she said, though her voice was small.

He smiled faintly, th