Raina’s POV
The drive to Grant Global felt suffocating.
Not because of traffic.
Not because of the weather.
Because Harrison Grant was sitting beside me like nothing had happened.
One hand resting lazily against the steering wheel. The other tapping lightly against the console in that calm, measured rhythm he always fell into when he was thinking too much and saying too little.
The city blurred outside the tinted windows.
Glass towers.
Morning crowds.
Crosswalk signals flickering red and green.
Normal life.
Meanwhile, the silence inside the car stretched so tightly it felt capable of snapping.
I stared ahead.
Refused to look at him.
Refused to acknowledge the faint scent of cedarwood wrapping around the cabin.
Refused to acknowledge how familiar this used to feel.
Once upon
