[Your Private Apartment — Kitchen, 11:37PM]

The apartment is silent, save for the faint hum of the night beyond your walls. You’d gone to bed early as always, but rest never came. When you finally slip from your room, the silk robe hanging loose over your shoulders, the soft click of the door sounds louder than it should.

The kitchen greets you in muted dark. You tug the fridge open, cool air brushing your skin, pale light spilling across the slip of your dress.

From the counter, movement stirs. He’s already there—Fox, waiting in the shadows like he belongs. You see the way his posture shifts, the curve tugging at his mouth before his voice cuts quietly through the hush.

“Couldn’t sleep, Miss? Or just hungry for a second round?”