Nicholas didn't usually do mornings like this.
Usually, he was already dressed, cufflinks in place, cologne subtle and sharp, barking something about meetings or reading something dense on his phone with that effortless confidence he wore like a custom suit.
But now?
Now he was curled on the couch with Ella curled up against his chest, his hand absently tracing shapes along her spine, as if the motion alone could settle the tension brewing just beneath his cool exterior.
The city stretched outside those floor-to-ceiling windows, glass towers piercing the sky, yet Nicholas… wasn't moving.
No suit. No laptop. Just sweatpants and his bare chest, warm against Ella's cheek.
Ella shifted slightly, peeking up at him. His jaw was tense, even though his touch was gentle, his thumb brushing the curve of her shoulder.
He was here—with her. Fully present.
But also somewhere else entirely.
Something wasn't right.
"Nick?" she said softly, pressing her hand lightly to his chest.
