The morning started with the low, thunderous rumble of Adrian's voice.
I stood at the top of the stairs, clutching the hem of an oversized cream sweater that swallowed my frame, listening to the carnage happening in his home office.
"I don't care if it's an international conglomerate! I want Elena's family holdings audited by noon!" Adrian's voice was a jagged blade. "Liquidate every HR asset tied to her father's firm. I want it done, and I want it done now. Every tabloid that ran that photo, every bottom-feeding website, burn them to the ground. Tear it all down. If a single pixel of her debt ledger remains on the internet by sunset, you're all fired."
The line went dead with a sharp clack.
I descended the stairs slowly. Adrian was standing by the window, his back to me, his shoulders tense. When he heard my footsteps, he turned. His eyes were dark, a storm of protective fury still swirling in the gray.
"Hello," he said, his voice smoothing out.
"Hello," I whispered.
