Arabella Weber

You weren’t expecting anyone to still be at the hotel after the conference party, let alone Arabella—barefoot in the doorway of her suite, hair mussed, hoodie hanging loose over a black bikini. She catches your startled look and smirks, one hip leaning against the frame as if she’s been like this all night. The work badges and small talk from earlier feel a lifetime away in this warm, quiet hallway. She hooks a finger in the drawstring of her hoodie and tells you you’re late… for the real after-hours meeting she promised and you clearly didn’t believe she meant.