Ravaged By Passion

“What do you care about luxury apartments?”

“These luxury apartments are why I’m here.” He squints, frowning. “And your boss has been lying to me about them.”

Another sound outside. This one’s further down the hall but it’s the distinct sound of a man talking loudly to someone like he’s on the phone. Footsteps stomp on the rug, getting closer.

The man shoves the folder into the drawer and shuts it. The voice gets closer and I recognize the depth and tenor, and my spine turns to water. I want to cry, a stone in my throat, a sob lodged above my lungs, and the gorgeous asshole steps toward the door, listening.

“He’s coming,” he says quietly and turns to look at me. His eyes dart around the room and I can almost see the calculations. “Do what I say if you want to get through this.”

“I’m sorry, what—”

He walks over, grabs my hand, and yanks me toward him.