Elena arrived the next morning with the usual quiet tension sitting under her ribs. The lace was in place. The blindfold remained in her bag. She had followed the continuity of the private terms without allowing herself another internal debate, but the weight of the previous day still lingered. Richard Crowe’s call and Sophia’s unsigned card had changed the atmosphere inside the office. The private agreement had not disappeared, yet it no longer felt like the only current running through the floor.
The executive level was quiet when she stepped out of the lift. Adrian’s door stood open. He was already at his desk, jacket on, reviewing a thick set of documents with the focused stillness that usually meant something had irritated him.
“Good morning, Adrian.”
He looked up. “Close the door.
