Late at night in a dimly lit bar, a wealthy young man clad in designer threads slid a document across the table to Athena
Donovan
“I’m engaged to the Kennedy’s daughter. You’re not their flesh and blood, so I need you to sign off on ending our engagement,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“But hey, we could still mess around, right?” he added, his voice dripping with nonchalance.
Athena, dressed in a light blue linen dress, sat opposite him. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders, her skin porcelain- smooth, and her eyes gleamed with a quiet fire.”
