Elena’s POV
The penthouse is massive.
I stand in the entrance, suitcase at my feet, and try to absorb the sheer scale of it. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Marble floors. Furniture that probably costs more than my entire apartment.
This is Adrian’s space. His world.
And now, apparently, it’s mine too.
“I had the guest room prepared,” Adrian says, rolling my suitcase toward the hallway. “But I thought… maybe you’d prefer the master bedroom.”
I blink. “Where will you sleep?”
“The guest room. Or the couch.” He says it casually, like it doesn’t matter. Like giving up his own bed is nothing.
“Adrian, that’s”
“It’s fine, Elena.” He stops and looks at me, his expression unreadable. “You should be comfortable. That’s what matters.”
I want to argue. Want to tell him we can figure out something
