Serena Stanton hadn't expected to run into Adrian Shaw. There was a flicker of unease in her eyes, quickly concealed.
Staying at the same hotel, meeting wasn't odd.
Their gazes met for three seconds. She looked away without so much as a greeting, gracefully stepping into the elevator and standing in front of Adrian's left.
It was the dignity of adulthood: even after yesterday's passionate kisses and this morning's frigid parting, they could share the same elevator as if nothing had happened.
The elevator walls were decorated with mirrored panels polished to a shine, the faceted surfaces reflecting their forms from different angles.
In one slanted mirror, their silhouettes overlapped—ambiguous, impossibly beautiful.
Adrian lounged with his hands in his pockets, looking through the mirror at Serena's long, slender legs.
He stood in the middle, leaving her no way to retreat to a corner; she had to straighten her back and stand stoically beside him.
