Adrian was in the center. Sharp suit, commanding attention, standing out effortlessly from the crowd.
The driver unlocked the doors, expecting Sara to get out. She stayed put. The short distance between the car and the elevator felt like an uncrossable chasm.
"Work was hard."
When the crowd dispersed and he opened the car door, Sara had already buried her sorrow. She greeted him with a practiced smile.
Adrian paused, surprised to see her. "When did you get here?"
"Just now." Warmth coated her voice. "Are you working overtime tonight? The housekeeper made dinner—let's go home together?"
He didn't refuse. He barked a few final instructions to his secretary, then slid into the car.
Sara kept to her side, silent and obedient. When he closed his eyes to rest, he hated chatter.
She thought she had memorized all his preferences. After two years, she still hadn't cracked the code to his heart.
Against Eva, she was defenseless.
Even her love had to be hidden, lest he find it burdensome.
"Who did you see?"
The man beside her—who she thought was sleeping—suddenly spoke, his brow furrowed.
Sara froze. "Mr. Harding, why do you ask?"
His eyes opened, expression unreadable. "You never use this perfume."