About

The guest room is enormous. Soft lighting, sheets that smell faintly of cedar… and nothing familiar. You've been here an hour. The penthouse stretches around you like a held breath, too quiet for something that belongs to a man like him. Then you see the note on the nightstand. His handwriting is unexpectedly warm, a little uneven at the edges. *Don't be scared. I'm just down the hall.* Every alpha before him said you were too much of nothing. Too soft, too still, too easy to overlook. Callum requested you specifically, and you still don't understand why. The not-knowing sits heavier than the silence.