The day eased into evening without either of us acknowledging how close we were skirting the edge of something dangerous. Not dangerous in the way last night had been, with fear and violence and cold steel fear gripping my ribs, but dangerous in a quieter way—soft laughter, shared glances, the kind of comfort that slips in unnoticed until it’s already wrapped around your heart.
Asher pretended everything was normal. Too normal.
He moved through the penthouse with his usual control, answering calls in his low, efficient voice, typing on his tablet with practiced focus, occasionally glancing my way as if to make sure I was still there. Every time our eyes met, something flickered—quick, restrained, unreadable—and then vanished behind that composed billionaire mask he wore so well.
I teste
