A week later…
I walk through the front door, my shoulders slumping with exhaustion. The office has been a whirlwind all week as my team and I scramble to organize tomorrow night’s charity gala.
I can practically feel the stress clinging to me like a second skin, my mind spinning with guest lists, seating arrangements, and last-minute changes.
All I want is to kick off my heels, slip into something comfortable, and maybe let Benedict work his magic with one of his massages. But as I step inside, my breath catches.
Suitcases are lined up by the front door.
I blink, taking a shaky step closer. Could Alex have broken in…again? Why is everything packed up?
The familiar hum of the TV reaches my ears, drawing my attention to the living room. Benedict is sprawled on the couch in sweats, looking so at ease with himself in that way only he can pull off.
A blanket is draped over his shoulders, and a half-empty mug of tea sits on the coffee table beside him. The sight should be comforting, but my heart pounds with questions.