Alex’s POV
The penthouse was dead silent, save for the faint, rhythmic hum of the central AC and the distant, muted pulse of the city seventy stories below. Ruby was asleep against my chest, her breathing soft and perfectly synchronized with mine, her vibrant ginger curls scattered like spilled copper across my bare shoulder. The familiar, intoxicating scent of her vanilla perfume was thoroughly embedded in the charcoal silk sheets, wrapping around us like a thick, heavy blanket.
I was completely intoxicated. Holding her like this—feeling the soft, subtle curve of her waist beneath my heavy arm—sent a protective, intensely possessive current straight through my veins. We weren't in love yet. We both knew the rules of the five-year game we had agreed to play in Manhattan. But sitting a
