Adam's thumb brushed over her knuckles, the weight of his hand warm and steady on hers. "I don't like it when you're this quiet," he said softly, his voice almost swallowed by the muted hum of the city outside the tinted windows. The driver eased the car out of the hotel's parking lot, the glow of the gala still clinging to their clothes like perfume.
Sofia blinked and tried to summon a smile. "I'm just a little tired," she murmured, darting a glance at him before looking back at the glittering streets beyond the glass. Her weak smile flickered like a candle, quick and practiced.
Adam studied her face, the way her lashes hid her eyes, the way her shoulders curled slightly inward. "Tired," he repeated, but the word sounded like a question.
