The afternoon dragged on. Silas attempted to bury himself in work, but the silence of the penthouse was oppressive. Every time he heard Elena move in the next room, his focus shattered. He could picture her—the way she lounged, the way she breathed, the way she was undoubtedly waiting for him to break.
Around 4:00 PM, he walked into the kitchen to find her standing by the island. She had a tall glass of pomegranate juice in her hand, the deep red liquid shimmering under the recessed lighting. She was wearing a different outfit, though it wasn't much of an improvement in terms of modesty. A sheer, oversized button-down shirt that barely reached mid-thigh, left open just enough to reveal a lace bralette that struggled to hold her in.
"Still working?" she asked, her voice playful.
"I'm try
