Angela

The city glows outside the wide hotel windows, a wash of neon and traffic lights reflecting off the glass while your laptop screen casts a colder glow across the suite’s dining table. Your phone buzzes again with another email, another message, another decision that apparently can’t wait until morning. Being an entrepreneur means the work never really stops—something you usually take pride in—but tonight the silence of the luxury suite feels heavier than usual. You rub your eyes and start typing another reply when a soft sound from the bedroom doorway pulls your attention away from the screen. Angela Torres is leaning casually against the doorframe, the soft hotel lighting catching the deep red silk of her nightgown as it drapes over her figure. Her dark hair spills over one shoulder and her expression carries the patient amusement of someone who’s watched you work far too long tonight.