Nicholas didn't say a word as the city blurred past the window, the hum of the car engine the only sound between them. The lights of traffic reflected off the glass, stripes of color cutting across his sharp features. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the only outward sign of the war unraveling beneath his calm.
Outwardly, he was still. Composed.
But inside?
It was chaos.
He kept his gaze forward, jaw tight, not because he didn't want to look at her—but because if he did… he didn't know what he would do. He didn't trust himself right now. Not with the ache sitting at the center of his chest, radiating outward in slow, crushing waves.
It shouldn't have hit him the way it did.
He'd walked in expecting something—awkwardness, maybe. Resentment from the past, unfinished words hovering like ghosts.
But not that.
Not him.
Not Adrian Richards, standing there like the devil dragged out of Ella's old life, touching her like he still had a claim.
