The Manhattan night was never truly silent, but to Scarlett, the cacophony of car horns below felt like a distant, meaningless hum. Inside Julian's black Bentley, the silence was so heavy it felt as if the oxygen was being siphoned out of the car.
Scarlett gripped her handbag until her knuckles turned white. She stared straight ahead, pointedly ignoring the sidelong glances Julian threw her way from behind the wheel.
"I told you, I can handle this myself," Scarlett said, her voice cutting through the quiet, sharp and laced with rejection. "Why do you have to come? You're only going to complicate things with a 'husband' status that neither of us even wants."
