The city lights were still twinkling when Logan Reed stepped out of the hotel, the collar of his tailored coat turned up against the early morning chill. He smelled of champagne and Sabrina’s perfume. A sweet, dangerous scent that still clung to his skin.
For a brief moment, he felt invincible. The deal he had just closed, the woman by his side, and the luxury suite fueled the illusion that nothing in his life could fall apart. Not tonight.
He unlocked his luxury car, got behind the wheel, and started the engine. His phone lit up with a dozen missed calls, but he didn’t bother checking them. He figured it was Madison worrying again.
Pregnant women always worried, he told himself. And he was tired of being the husband who had to reassure her. When he arrived at the building where they lived, the sun was just beginning to rise, bathing the glass lobby in a pale, golden light.
He went up in the private elevator, expecting Madison to burst into tears or demand an explanation for not coming home. He rehearsed excuses, half-truths, and the classic line:
“It was a business dinner. You’re exaggerating again.”
But the apartment was silent. Too silent.