The soft click of the heavy oak door shutting sounded like a gunshot in the silent, dimly lit room.
Alexander stood frozen in the doorway. The harsh, blueish glow of the triple-monitor setup cut across the sharp angles of his face, exposing the sudden, absolute paralysis of a man whose sins had finally caught up to him. He was still half-bare, his sculpted chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow increments, but the warmth Elena had felt radiating from him just hours before had completely turned to ice.
Elena didn't move. Her fingers remained pressed against the smooth, cold mahogany of his desk, the only anchor keeping her from collapsing as the world spun violently out of orbit. She stared at him through a blurred veil of hot, agonizing tears, her chest heaving as the horrific truth
