Later in the afternoon Jacob Cross came to pick Lily up , because his friends asked to bring is wife , for the party they invited me for.
Elegant cello music floated through the limousine, the sound mingling seamlessly with the soft hum of city lights outside.
Jacob Cross sat quietly, fingers tapping rhythmically against his leg. His face remained calm, an unreadable mask, while his sharp eyes occasionally flicked to the darkened cityscape beyond the window.
Lily, perched beside him, could feel the tension lingering in the air, almost as if the atmosphere itself were holding its breath. She toyed with the idea of teasing him—but before she could, he spoke.
Jacob said evenly. "I'll arrange a assistant."
Lily's head snapped toward him. "What?"
"To easy your stress," he continued, his tone flat yet filled with subtle softness.
"You bastard," she spat, unable to hide her anger. "You just want to plant someone to monitor me!"
