The next morning arrived far too quickly.
Sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the master bedroom in soft golden hues.
Elena opened her eyes slowly.
For a brief moment, she forgot where she was.
Then reality returned.
The penthouse.
The engagement.
The bed.
The man sleeping beside—
Her thoughts immediately halted.
The space beside her was empty.
The sheets were already cold.
Alaric had apparently escaped.
Coward.
Elena sat up and rubbed her temples.
After an entire night of being painfully aware of another person's existence, she had somehow managed to get very little sleep.
An achievement she blamed entirely on Alaric Hale.
Naturally.
After freshening up, she left the bedroom and followed the smell of coffee drifting through the penthouse.
Voices echoed from the dining area.
One of them sounded suspiciously cheerful.
Elena already knew who it was.
Sure enough—
Clara was sitting at the kitchen island, happily eating breakfast.
