Ava arrived at TMP Inc. earlier than usual the next morning.
She needed the silence, the stillness of empty hallways and the soft hum of the espresso machine in her top floor office, before the weight of the day descended.
Anything to drown out the echo of the night before. The sting in her chest from the way Xander had looked at her in the kitchen.
He hadn’t pressed, but the way his eyes flicked to the phone in her hand with Tristan’s name lighting the screen had been enough to unravel her sleep for two nights.
She slipped into her office, dropping her bag onto the sofa. She had barely turned on her laptop when a soft knock at the door came.
She froze.
No one knocked this early. Not her assistant, not her staff.
The door cracked open, and there he was.
Tristan.
The morning light
