Lucian's POV
The elevator doors slid open on the penthouse floor at 7:38 p.m., and the quiet in the house hit me first.
She was meant to be home by now but I didn't get a faint sign of her presence.
There was no television murmur or the clink of Aria moving around the kitchen the way she sometimes did when she couldn't sleep—making chamomile tea or slicing fruit she never actually ate.
"Aria?" I called out,my voice echoing off the high ceilings but there was no answer.
I set my briefcase down by the console table and walked deeper into the apartment. The living room was empty with her favorite pink blanket neatly folded on the sofa which if she was home would have been in the bedroom. The terrace doors were closed, no lights outside,same with the kitchen which was dark and only the under-cabinet LEDs glowing faintly.
My pulse kicked up a notch.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and called her but it went straight to voicemail.
