A storm over the penthouse
There was silence on the way back from her mother's house, but it wasn't the kind of quiet. It was dense—charged—like the oppressive silence that precedes the sky being ripped apart by lightning. Adrian remained silent. He refrained from touching her. He did not even glance in her direction. Emilia could feel the tightness in his tendons, the little tremor of someone holding himself together by sheer will, even if his hands were still and in control as they rested on his lap. The city raced by outside the car window in blurry neon and dawn gray streaks, but the actual storm wasn't there. The man seated next to her had it inside of him. Emilia sensed it tightening, accumulating, and searching for a spot to shatter.Adrian silently got out of the car as it
