The Visconti Proposition

Kaelia

I woke up to see Valen already dressed, standing by the window with his phone pressed to his ear. He spoke in that business voice of his, low, calm, total control.

“know the timing’s not great, but these things never are,” he said. “Yeah. Sunday’s fine. We’ll see you at seven.”

He hung up and turned, catching me staring.

“The Viscontis?” I kept my voice quiet.

“Just confirming dinner plans.