Nathan Sterling woke up to sunlight spilling through floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the Manhattan skyline like an arrogant promise. He stretched an arm across the empty side of his bed, fingers brushing cold silk sheets, and huffed out a quiet laugh at himself.
Last night’s near-miss replayed like a loop on repeat: the way Sophia had looked at him — startled, breathless — right before she pulled back. It should have bruised his ego. Instead, it had left him wanting more. Much more.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet sinking into the soft rug. In the hush of his penthouse, the only sound was the faint hum of the city below and the low buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reached for it, half-expecting — half-hoping — to see a message from her. Nothing yet.
Patience
