The penthouse enveloped Eleanor in a cocoon of muted luxury. She had retreated here after the tower's vertigo, insisting on rest over Calder's gentle protests.
The guest suite's king bed had claimed her, pillows propped for elevation, a light throw draped over her legs.
The dizziness had ebbed into a low thrum. Stress, perhaps, or the body's relentless cravings manifesting anew.
Her own penthouse across the arrondissement waited, a sanctuary of independence, but Julian's insistence had rooted her here. "Stay. Let me look after you." Now, as she dozed fitfully, the space felt less haven, more cage.
Footsteps echoed from the hall. Julian entered the suite without knocking, tray in hand.
His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled, the CEO's polish softened to domestic fervor. "Eleanor. Broug
