MAXWELL'S POV
The elevator ride up to the penthouse was excruciatingly silent. Usually, silence was my preferred state since I paid a lot of money for soundproofing in my office and my car, but this particular silence felt incredibly heavy, resembling the charged air right before a thunderstorm.
Andrea stood in the corner of the elevator as far away from me as the steel walls would allow, still wearing my tuxedo jacket draped over her shoulders while clutching the lapels tightly across her chest like a shield. Staring at the floor numbers ticking upward, her eyes appeared glassy and unfocused.
Watching her reflection in the polished brass doors, she looked absolutely wrecked rather than just tired, appearing fundamentally shaken.
"We're here," I said as the doors slid open.
Flinching
