LOGIN(Sloane POV)The black sedan pulled away from the gates, the tires crunching over the gravel.Once the tinted windows were up, the car felt way too small. It was just the two of us in the back, plus the driver who wasn't saying a word. I could see the back of his head, perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He might as well have been a mannequin.Leon sat on one side, I sat on the other. There was plenty of space between us, but it didn't feel like it. The leather seat was cool and smooth beneath my hands, and I kept pressing my palms into it just to feel something other than the awareness of him.Neither of us spoke. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the soft click of the turn signal every few blocks. It was rhythmic, almost hypnotic. Click. Pause. Click. Pause. It filled the silence without breaking it.I kept my hands locked in my lap, trying to stay still. I noticed Leon
(Sloane's POV)I was losing my mind, one second at a time.I'd spent the last four hours staring at a blinking cursor until the white light of the laptop screen felt like it was searing holes into my retinas. I hadn't eaten. I hadn't even thought about the kitchen. Every time I tried to focus, the words blurred into the memory of Leon's face. The way his mouth had tightened the last time he looked at me. The way the air seemed to vanish whenever he got too close.My skin felt too tight for my body. It was that frantic, low-level hum of electricity that happens right before a storm breaks.By eleven, I'd had enough of my own head.I shoved the chair back, the screech of wood against the floor sounding like a gunshot. I didn't turn on any lights as I walked toward the bathroom. I just wanted the day to be over. I wanted to stop feeling like I was waiting for something to happen.I hit the shower and cranked the handle until the water
(Sloane's POV)I didn't think I would be able to close my eyes. The air in the apartment felt charged, vibrating with the ghost of that kiss in the elevator and the lethal, quiet fury Leon had left in his wake. My skin felt too tight for my body.I lay in bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling as the shadows of the blinds shifted like slow-moving bars. Every settling floorboard made my heart trip. I was waiting for a knock. A door opening. A shadow in the hallway. Anything to break the agonizing pressure of the silence.Finally, I reached for my headphones. I needed to drown out the sound of my own pulse. I put on Lana Del Rey, letting the cinematic, tragic swell of her voice wash over me. Ultraviolence bled into Honeymoon. The slow, hazy melodies acted like a physical weight. It was music for people who were used to the rain. Music for women who sought out the fire and wondered why they ended up burned.The dark, blue glamour of
(Sloane's POV)The walk back to the car was a blur of cold mist and silence heavy with things left unsaid. Kai didn't offer to take my bag. He didn't try to touch my arm. He simply walked, his stride measured and certain, as if he already knew exactly where we were going."I thought you were heading straight to the airport," I said as we reached the car."I have to get my briefcase and the physical copies of the directives." Kai opened the door for me, his expression unreadable. "Besides, we aren't finished talking."The drive back to the apartment felt different than the ride to the bar. The silence wasn't empty space. It was a pressure. It sat between us on the leather upholstery, thick and demanding.I watched the city lights smear against the wet window. I kept thinking about the kiss in the bar. It hadn't felt like a beginning. It had felt like a challenge. A way for Kai to see if he could actually ruffle m
(Sloane's POV)The spreadsheet on the laptop was a blur of neon green and white. The columns of projected interest rates bled into the margins of the cells, and the low hum of the office's cooling vent felt like it was vibrating inside my skull.Leon was sitting too close.The office was climate-controlled, the air thin and smelling faintly of expensive toner. And Leon's cologne. Something that reminded me of cedar and cold rain. I could feel the heat radiating off his shoulder, a constant, low-frequency distraction from the infrastructure data I was trying to explain."It's a simple hedge, Leon. If the interest rates climb beyond the two percent threshold, we pivot the talking points to the secondary indexes. You're not selling the project. You're selling the stability," I said.I used my pen to tap the screen, trying to keep my focus on the math.Leon didn't look at the screen. He was leaning back, his chair angl
(Sloane POV)The ice cube in my glass had melted into a jagged, translucent sliver. It bobbed listlessly in the orange juice. I picked up a spoon from the counter and began to stir it. The metal clinked rhythmically against the glass.Clink. Clink. Clink.It was a mindless, annoying sound. It gave me something to do with my hands other than let them shake.At the dining table, Kai was a portrait of rigid intensity. He wasn’t leaning back. He was perched on the edge of his chair, his spine a straight line of pure focus. The blue light from his laptop screen reflected in his eyes.He tracked lines of data with predatory speed. He had only started drafting the opening statement seventy-two hours ago. In Kai-time, that was an eternity. He had already scrapped three versions because the cadence wasn't authoritative enough.For Kai, this fellowship debate wasn't about a career move. It was about the win. He n
(Sloane's POV)The clock on the study wall didn’t just tick. It throbbed. Each movement of the second hand felt like a pulse in the room’s jugular.By 1:45 p.m., the air had become a thick, physical weight. Leon was back in his seat. But he wasn’t sitting. He was vibrating wit
(Sloane's POV)The morning after the disastrous Schneider call, the apartment felt like a pressure cooker.I was back at the oak table, the surface polished so brightly it felt clinical. I didn't look at the door when it opened. I knew the rhythm of Leon’s stride.It wa
(Sloane's POV) Day three of my self-imposed exile from Leon started with a headache that felt like a blunt nail being tapped into my temple. I stayed under the covers for way too long, just staring at this tiny, jagged crack in the ceiling plaster. I’d lived here how lo
(Sloane’s POV) I fumbled with the lock on my bedroom door, the metal cool against my overheated skin. The click echoed louder than it should have. I slumped against the wood, my chest heaving like I’d just run a mile instead of a single hallway. Outside the window, the c






![His Hidden Wife [Borromeo Series Book 1]](https://www.goodnovel.com/pcdist/src/assets/images/book/43949cad-default_cover.png)
