The office was quieter at this hour.
Not silent—Manhattan at eleven PM was never silent, and the building had its own ambient sound, the hum of systems that ran regardless of whether anyone was in the building to need them. But the specific noise of the working day was gone. No assistants, no calls, no footsteps in the corridor. Just the two of them and their laptops and the broadband contract's implementation framework spread across the conference table in seventeen separate documents that had multiplied over the course of the evening into something significantly more complex than either of them had anticipated at six PM.
Liam didn't mind.
He was aware that he didn't mind, which was itself information.
She'd taken her jacket off around eight.
