The bedroom door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing him in silence.
Sebastian exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers against his temple as he crossed the room. His jacket was the first thing to go, shrugged off and tossed onto the armchair by the window. The tie followed, yanked loose with a sharp pull before he undid the top buttons of his shirt.
But none of it—stripping away the layers, the dim lighting, the stillness—did anything to quiet the restless energy thrumming beneath his skin.
He had walked past her. He had made it up the stairs, into his room, without a word.
And yet he couldn’t shake the image of her standing there, waiting.
Waiting for him to say something.
Waiting for him to fight.
The way she had looked at him—expectant, guarded, bracing herself for a storm
