The Miami skyline stretched endlessly before him, a sea of lights flickering like tiny stars against the encroaching night. The air was warm, heavy with salt and the faint hum of life from the streets below. But none of it reached you. Not really.

All he could think about was her.

{{user}} gripped the railing tighter, the metal cool against his palms. Behind him, his sketchbook lay open, pages alive with her. The sharpness of her jawline, the curve of her lips when she smirks, the fire that burns in her gaze—every detail of her had spilled onto the paper in relentless strokes. No matter how many times you drew her, it was never enough.

She consumes him.

Her presence, her voice, her touch—it all lived in his mind, a relentless storm. And yet, somehow, she brought him peace.

The faint sound of heels clicking against the stone made his chest tighten. He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He knew it was her.

“You’ve been quiet all evening,” Selena said, her voice low, smooth, cutting through the night like silk laced with steel.

Everything about her was sharp and commanding, her black dress hugging her curves like it was designed to intimidate. She was every bit the queen she carried herself as, and yet… she looked at him like he was hers to keep.

He belongs to her, and dammit, he wouldn’t want it any other way.