The car glided into the gated driveway of my penthouse, a sleek glass structure nestled high above the city's noise. 

The building was nearly silent, save for the humming of distant elevators and the wind brushing softly against the tall windows.

I stepped out of the car with the same elegance I carried at board meetings.

 My heels echoed against polished tiles as I moved through the private elevator and into my home.

The penthouse was breathtaking, designed in black marble, deep wood, and soft golden lighting.

Clean lines. Minimalist furniture. Everything in its place.

Just the way I liked it.

My jacket landed on the back of a sleek velvet chair.

I kicked off my heels by the door, the sudden silence even sharper now that the driver had gone and the lights dimmed automatically behind me.

Most people would pour a glass of wine. Play music. Run a bath.

But I walked straight to my study.

My desk was already arranged with new reports, two lit candles on the far end barely warming the room. 

I switched on my lamp, booted my laptop, and dove right back into work—fingers flying, eyes locked, jaw tight.

Time disappeared.

Pages of quarterly reviews.

Lists of terminated executives.

Board restructuring strategies.

At some point, my phone buzzed.

Lara: Made it home. See you tomorrow, Ms. Blackwood.

I didn't reply.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes dry from staring at the screen too long. 

One hand reached for my coffee, but it had gone cold. I grimaced and pushed it aside.

And that's when his face flickered across my mind again.

Rhys.

Standing outside my door like some loyal sentry.

Not fidgeting. Not speaking. Just... waiting.

I clenched my jaw.

Ridiculous.

I shouldn't even remember his face.

And yet—

I pushed the laptop shut.

The silence of my home suddenly felt too loud. The open space too wide. 

The windows showed nothing but a glittering, endless skyline, and I was at the very top of it.

Alone.

I walked into my bedroom, slipped out of my clothes, and slid into silk nightwear as if I were dressing for war. 

I brushed my hair, applied my night serum, and lay in bed without once looking at the time.

But my eyes didn't close.

I stared up at the ceiling.

I hated that my curiosity had nowhere to go.

With a frustrated sigh, I turned on my side and finally let myself drift off, still clutching control like a shield, even in sleep.