The shadow lengthened, stretching toward the edge of the mahogany desk.

I reached out and tilted the laptop screen down halfway, shielding the glowing database.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Adrian stood in the doorway.

He carried a small silver tray with a cup of black coffee and a glass of water.

He wore a soft charcoal sweater instead of his usual tailored suit jacket, but he still looked imposing.

The room was large, with high ceilings and heavy dark blue drapes that blocked the wind howling off Lake Michigan.

A single brass lamp on the desk illuminated the corners of the room.

“I saw the light under your door,” Adrian said.

His voice was quiet, a low rumble in the silence of the estate.

“I brought you something to drink.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He walked into the room, his leather shoes silent on the thick Persian rug.

He set the tray down on the corner of the desk, his eyes tracking the slight movement of my hands.

“You look pale, Emily,” he said.