His Wife On Paper
But as I stood up, leaning against the cold marble of a pedestal for support.
The panoramic windows offered a staggering view of the city skyline, but as I glanced at the frames, I noticed there were no latches. No handles. The glass was thick, reinforced, designed to keep the world out. The air was perfectly climate-controlled, devoid of the scent of the city, filtered and thin. It felt like being inside a very expensive bell jar.
"It’s a lot to take in," Elijah said, walking toward the sleek bar in the corner. The clink of crystal against glass echoed in the cavernous room as he poured a finger of amber liquid. "But you’ll get used to it. It’s the safest place in the city."
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