The drive from the airport to the hotel was quiet. Too quiet.
Emma sat beside Lucian in the back seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she watched the city roll by — a blur of glass towers and streetlights flickering through the drizzle. He was beside her, calm as always, scrolling through something on his tablet. If he felt the same awkward tension humming in the air, he didn’t show it.
She wished she could do the same.
Every few seconds, her mind replayed the night they’d… crossed a line. The taste of his lips. The way his breath had hitched when he said her name. And the look on his face the next morning, pretending as if nothing had ever happened.
She pressed her fingers against her temple. Get it together, Emma.
When the car finally pulled up to the hotel — a sleek, moder
