Isabelle sat curled into the plush sofa in Marcus’s penthouse, the city skyline stretching beyond the massive windows. The night was clear, the city alive with flickering lights, but up here, it was quiet—removed from the chaos below.
She exhaled softly, letting her head fall back against the cushion, rolling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. She was supposed to be relaxing, unwinding after another long day, but her thoughts weren’t cooperating.
And judging by the way Marcus was watching her over the rim of his own glass, he had noticed.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his voice smooth and knowing.
She blinked, glancing over at him. He was leaning back against the couch, exuding that effortless confidence he always carried. The dim lighting softened the sharpness of
