The ride the rest of the way home was silent, but it was a heavy, charged silence. Clara leaned against Elias, her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. She felt exhausted, drained, and completely satisfied.
When the car finally pulled up to their penthouse, the driver stepped out and opened the door. As Clara stepped out, she glanced back at him.
The driver gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. It was the nod of a co-conspirator, a silent agreement that what had happened in the back of that car remained a secret.
Inside the penthouse, the atmosphere was different. The lights were dimmed, the air cool and smelling of sandalwood. They didn't speak as they walked toward the bedroom, their movements slow and synchronized.
Elias stopped her in the middle of the room, turning her to
