The city blurred into a streak of neon blue and cold gold outside the reinforced windows of the limousine. Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was no longer the sharp, clinical tension of a business deal or the frantic adrenaline of a narrow escape. It had shifted into something far more dangerous: a heavy, resonant intimacy that seemed to vibrate in the very space between their seats.
Sarah leaned back against the leather, the torn burgundy veil resting in her lap like a fallen banner. Her face felt strangely cold without the mesh covering it, exposed to the dim amber glow of the interior lights and, more importantly, to Sebastian's unwavering gaze. He wasn't looking at his tablet. He wasn't nursing a gin. He was simply watching her, his presence a dark, protective shadow that filled the car.
"You're still shaking," Sebastian observed. His voice was lower than usual, a gravelly murmur that sent a fresh wave of heat through her, contrasting with the chill of the air conditioning.
