Chapter 41

Eleanor 

The second I turned the corner and stepped through the narrow door tucked into the paneling of Simon's office, a wave of cool air brushed past my face. I blinked into the dimly lit space, my eyes adjusting quickly.

The room was small—almost like a hidden cellar—with wine racks lining the walls from floor to ceiling, each slot filled with dusty, expensive-looking bottles. There was a faint scent of aged wood, metal, and something else—like citrus and spice—lingering in the air.

I raised my fingers to the side of my face and whispered, "Adrian. You can go in now."

No response.