The private elevator doors slide open with a hiss. Lily is curled on the living room sofa, her knees tucked under one of Alexander’s black cashmere throws and holds a cup of chamomile cooling untouched in her hands.
The bandages on her feet peek out from the blanket, the bruises on her face have deepened to ugly purple. She spent the morning dozing and jumping at every sound, waiting for him to come back and tell her what happens next.
The second she hears the elevator she straightens, her heart leaping. Alexander steps into the penthouse like a thundercloud wearing a suit. His jacket unbuttoned, his tie gone and sleeves always rolled up. His jaw locked so tight the muscle ticks.
He doesn’t speak or even glance at her. He crosses the room in long strides, yanks open the bar cabinet. H
