Come with me.” Anthony’s voice was low, commanding, yet smooth, like silk sliding over steel.
“Why should I?” she shot back, eyes narrowed, her stance unyielding.
“Because it’s your job,” he said, the edge in his tone unmistakable. “You work here or would you prefer I take this up with Alvin?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t answer. Instead, Anthony’s hand gripped hers like iron and guided her to the sofa, his movements deliberate, unrelenting. He turned, effortlessly lifting two packages, and placed them in her lap.
“Here. Open it.” His voice was calm, almost unnervingly so.
She stared at the boxes. “What is this?”
“Just open it.” A faint, teasing smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she peeled back the wrapping of the first bo
