The steady rhythm of tapping keyboards and muffled voices barely registered as Nicholas Carter sat in his corner office, high above the city skyline. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the distant horizon, but his attention wasn't on the view or the reports stacked neatly on his desk. He stared at his monitor, a blank document open, the cursor blinking impatiently—mocking him.
He hadn't typed a single word.
His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the sleek armrests of his chair. His mind kept circling back to her. Ella.
This morning, her scent had lingered on his shirt—faintly floral with a touch of vanilla. He'd held her all night, thinking for a fleeting moment that the wall between them had cracked, even if just slightly. That maybe, just maybe, she was starting to let him in.
But then morning came—and everything shattered.
