"You’re quiet."

Adrian’s voice cut through the dim glow of the penthouse, low and smooth, as Naya stared blankly out the window at the city lights below.

"I’m fine," she replied, too quickly, her arms folded across her chest.

He leaned against the marble island behind her, swirling a glass of scotch, studying her like a puzzle he already knew the solution to.

"You’re lying. Badly," he said after a beat.

"Why do you care?" she snapped, still not turning around.

He let out a ...