I stand frozen near the bar, Elena's final words echoing in my head like a dare. She claims to want a night—just one—where we stop asking questions. The weight of it lingers, the air in my apartment growing thick with her perfume.
"Do you mean tonight?" I ask quietly, unable to stop my heart from hammering.
She offers no immediate answer, just sets her empty glass on my windowsill and glances at the city lights. A wry half-smile plays at her lips. "One night… or maybe more. Depends on how curious you are, Lucas."
My mouth goes dry. This is insane. She's my boss's wife; I'm just a cog in his corporate machine. Yet a small, defiant part of me flares up at her challenge. I open my mouth to speak, but she brushes past me, heading for the door.
"Soon," she murmurs, stepping into the dim hallway. And then she's gone, heels clicking against the concrete floor.
A tremor passes through me, part adrenaline, part dread. I glance at the couch where she sat moments ago. The imprint of her body on the cushions seems to whisper a thousand questions I'm not ready to answer.