Christopher's POV
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, nursing a glass of whiskey and watching the city lights flicker through the cloudy night sky. The ice clinked against the crystal as I took another sip, checking my Rolex for what felt like the hundredth time. Fifteen minutes. Ashley was fifteen minutes late.
"Where the hell are you?" I muttered, scrolling through my phone. No messages, no calls. Nothing.
I was about to pour myself another drink when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Ashley, but instead saw Emilia's name flashing. With a sigh, I swiped to answer.
"Hello, Emilia," I drawled, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Christopher! How are you?" Her voice chirped through the speaker, far too chipper for my current mood.
"Same old, same old. Busy with films, you know how it is."