The master bedroom was bathed in the harsh, blinding white light of the winter morning reflecting off the snow-covered city outside the floor-to-ceiling glass.
Ryan pushed open the heavy oak doors.
The sprawling king-sized bed dominated the center of the room, an unmade island of dark silk sheets and heavy down comforters.
The air was cool, conditioned to a crisp sixty-eight degrees, but the moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind the five of them, the atmospheric pressure spiked, turning the air thick and charged.
He didn't walk to the bed. He stopped three feet inside the room, turning to face them.
Zara stepped in first, her oversized black t-shirt hanging loosely over her thighs. Sophie followed, her dark leggings and grey cashmere sweater looking entirely out of place in the charged environment.
