Emma’s POV

The morning after felt like a fragile porcelain doll teetering on the edge of a cliff. The air in the penthouse, usually just quiet, was now thick with the unspoken. It hummed with the memory of Adrian’s lips on mine, with the raw, untamed rush that had consumed us both. Every breath I took was a silent echo of his, every glance across the vast living space felt loaded with the weight of our shared secret. We had agreed to pretend it didn't happen, but how could I un-feel the way his touch had ignited a wild fire within me? How could I un-taste the desperate sweetness of his kiss?