ASHLEY'S POV
“Michael, You're late.”
I voiced out, shattering the silence as Michael stepped into his penthouse. I was laying on the couch in one of his sweatshirts, waiting for him quietly to be back with my legs drawn up under me. I didn't budge. I just looked at him.
He closed the door behind him and rested against it for a second longer than usual.
His tie was gone. The first three buttons on his shirt were undone, his sleeves squeezed from rolling them up, but it wasn't the clothes that had him looking ruffled up. It was his face. He looked worn out, tired, like he hadn't blinked in a while.
I got up slowly and moved towards him.
“You didn't return my calls. I was worried.”
“Yeah,” he murmured weakly. “I'm sorry.”
I waited for a second, then moved closer to him. He made no m
