The sleek black limousine glided through the gridlocked streets of Manhattan like a silent shadow. Inside, the air conditioning was a frigid barrier against the sweltering July heat, but the atmosphere was far from comfortable.
Elena stared out the tinted window, her eyes tracking the blur of skyscrapers. On her left hand, the heavy diamond ring felt like a lead weight. Every time her skin brushed against the expensive cream fabric of her dress, her mind treacherously flashed back to the podium—the blinding lights, the heat of Ethan’s hand at the nape of her neck, and the terrifyingly real pressure of his lips against hers.
"You're quiet," Ethan’s smooth, deep voice broke the silence.
She didn't look at him. "I'm executing clause number two, Mr. Blackburn. Maintaining a flawless public
