"Justin~" *

She shoved the damn door open like it had personally offended her.

The hallway stretched out before her, drenched in wealth—dark-lit, sleek, stupidly expensive.

The kind of place where the air itself smelled like money, where even the silence felt rich. The walls were lined with subtle gold accents, the plush black carpet swallowed the sound of footsteps, and the dim lighting cast a seductive glow over everything, making it look like a scene from some billionaire's private fantasy.

And there he was.

Justin Black.

Walking away, hands in his pockets, casual as fuck—like he hadn't just flipped her entire world upside down and left it burning in his wake. Like he wasn't the reason her body was overheating, her mind was scrambled, and her soul—yes, her fucking soul—was clawing at her to move.

Her fingers tightened on the doorframe. Her breath came out uneven.

Fuck it.

"Justin~"