Finnegan
"A debit of five million dollars?"
The darkness was thick in the penthouse, surrounding me with the only light in the room coming from my phone. The clock display in the upper-right corner of the screen showed one-fifteen am.
My fingers curled tightly around the glass of whiskey that I had poured for myself hours ago. I had barely taken more than one sip.
I was too damned furious to take another.
How could I have been so blindsided? How the hell did I not see what was right in front of me all along? Abigail Kellerman had deceived me.
Scratch that, she had played me like I was some Ken doll.
It stung; it stung so bad that not even the burn of the whiskey could stop the fury burning in my veins.
Had she laughed at me, watching me apologize for touching her in my office, knowing well enough that I was fucking her anyway?
