- ALEX (ELISE)
If the mornings in Liam’s penthouse were a slow-burning mental trap, the nights were an outright minefield.
By seven p.m., the rain outside the floor-to-ceiling windows had turned into a full-blown thunderstorm, turning the city lights into blurred streaks of gray and neon. Inside, the only sound was the sizzle and pop of garlic and butter hitting a hot cast-iron skillet.
Liam was cooking dinner.
He’d shed his heavy office clothes, wearing a black, tight-fitting T-shirt that hugged his shoulders entirely too well, his sleeves pushed up to reveal the thick tendons in his forearms.
I sat at the kitchen island, huddled inside my giant brown sweater, watching him move around the professional-grade stove with a terrifying efficiency.
"You don't have to do this," I muttered
