Eva just nodded, eyes fixed on the city lights as they slipped past the window.
Alex watched her. The curve of her jaw, the slope of her bare shoulder, the way her lips were pressed just a bit too tightly together. Her back was straight as a blade, her legs crossed tightly, her arms drawn.
For the life of him, he had no idea why he even noticed these things. Why it mattered that she wasn't smiling. Why he suddenly wanted to reach for her hand but didn't.
He'd brought her into this world of privilege, but maybe—just maybe—he hadn't accounted for how deeply she'd sink into his bloodstream.
He glanced away, jaw flexing, fingers tightening around his thigh. He had built a life on keeping emotions compartmentalized. But Eva Winslow wasn't staying in her box.
He wasn't sure he wanted her to.
