MAXWELL’S POV
Walking into the penthouse, the silence hit me harder than the noise of the trading floor.
Usually feeling empty and sterile upon coming home, that was exactly how it was preferred. Being clean, orderly, and entirely mine had always been the goal.
However, for the last month, the space hadn't been empty at all. Smelling beautifully like vanilla shampoo and oil paint, finding sketches left carelessly on the coffee table and half-drunk cups of tea resting on the counter had become the new normal. Having a woman greet me at the door with a smile that made forgetting about being the CEO of a company on the brink of war entirely possible changed everything.
Now, the silence felt incredibly heavy and entirely suffocating.
Walking directly into the kitchen revealed the espresso
