Artemis' POV
The elevator's doors open, and the icy breeze welcomes me as I gaze at the huge open space. We are on the rooftop of the building, which is prepared as it would be in a luxury hotel hosting a gala event, but with a certain rustic air across its wide expanse.
"I usually come here when I need to be alone," Beck explains to me as the elevator's doors close behind us.
I follow him past an observation deck that has incredible views of the city and nestles between plush couches. We make our way to a mat-covered training area that's a bit smaller but functional.
"It's... impressive," I admit as I notice a small greenhouse in the other direction and the pleasant sound of birdsong.
Beck says nothing but instead takes off his shoes, jacket, and shirt. Unable to help myself, I stand admiring the line of tattoos running up the shapely muscles of his back as he pulls on a black tank top that leaves his firm, sculpted, ink-covered arms exposed.
