Lilian’s POV
“I have a Chem midterm in forty-five minutes.”
The sentence hung in the air between us, absurdly mundane after the morning I’d just had.
We were standing in the foyer of the penthouse. The air still smelled faintly of ozone and expensive cologne—the lingering trace of Elijah Zhang—but the tension radiating off Alexander was entirely his own.
He was still shirtless, though the sweat on his skin had dried. He stood like a statue carved from marble and aggression, blocking the path to the elevator. His hands were braced on his hips, drawing attention to the ridiculous V-line of muscles disappearing into his low-slung sweatpants.
He looked at me as if I had just announced I planned to juggle live grenades.
“No,” he rumbled.
I blinked, adjusting the strap of my heavy book b
