The storm came out of nowhere.
One moment, the city skyline stretched out in sharp, glittering lines beyond Damian’s penthouse windows. The next, it was swallowed by dark clouds and heavy sheets of rain that pounded against the glass like desperate hands.
Rhea stood stiffly near the couch, her arms hugging herself. She should have seen this coming. She should have left earlier, made an excuse, slipped away before the storm trapped her here. Now, the elevators were out, the security systems offline. Even her phone had no signal.
Just her and him. Alone, with nothing but the sound of thunder crashing overhead.
Damian moved around the darkened room with a strange kind of ease, like he belonged to the storm. He found a bottle of wine tucked away somewhere and pulled two glasses from a cabi
