Lilian's POV
Augusto had never smoked around me before our marriage. These days, it seemed like there was always a cigarette between his fingers. I wondered if the habit had been there all along, hidden beneath his perfect self-control.
He had always been a master at restraining his emotions and impulses. How had he managed to suppress something as addictive as smoking for so long?
The question nagged at me as I watched him.
He leaned back against the driver's seat with casual arrogance, a cigarette balanced between his long fingers while his other hand rested carelessly on the steering wheel. His eyes were fixed on something beyond the windshield, every line of his body radiating that effortless control he wore like armor. When he exhaled, the smoke curled upward in a slow, deliberate stream. There was something almost hypnotic about the entire scene.
I was still caught up in my observations when his voice sliced through the quiet like ice. "Get out."
