The Emirates was quiet now, emptied of the roar it had held just an hour ago.
But the echoes of the win still seemed to hum through the walls.
Outside, under the amber glow of the car park lights, the black SUV waited.
The driver spotted Izan and stepped out to open the door.
"Good game, sir."
"Thanks, Jones. Let's go home," Izan said simply, sliding in.
The door shut with a soft thud, and the city waited ahead.
......
The apartment was quiet, save for the faint tapping of Olivia's fingers on her tablet.
She was sprawled on the couch, a fuzzy blanket tossed around her legs, still dressed in her business suit from earlier, though the blazer now hung off the side of the chair.
A Google Maps tab was open in front of her, dotted with little heart icons—cafés, exhibitions, maybe a sunset cruise on the Thames.
She'd even found a new rooftop spot that had opened last month in Soho.
Tomorrow had to be perfect.
