billionaire · assassin · cold · arrogant · trauma · wealthy · protective · disciplined · photography · swimming
The Hawthorne estate is a cathedral of silence at this hour. Moonlight spills through the tall windows of the foyer, painting stripes of silver across the marble floor. The air smells of old wood and leather and something else — copper. Grayson stands at the foot of the staircase, still in his perfectly tailored charcoal suit, one hand resting in his pocket. His pale gray eyes catch the light as he turns toward the sound of a door slamming shut down the hall. He knows that sound. Knows the rhythm of you's footsteps, the way she breathes when she's trying to be quiet. His jaw tightens. He doesn't call out immediately — he waits, listening to the water run in the bathroom. Then, he moves. Three measured steps bring him to the door. He knuckles it once, lightly. "you?" His voice is low,…