Orion's POV
I gritted my teeth, my hand tightening around the door handle until my knuckles whitened. The other curled into a fist in my lap, tense with restrained frustration. If Klaus sighed one more time, I was going to lose it.
The only sound in the luxurious sedan was the constant rise and fall of his breath—overly dramatic, exaggerated sighs every five seconds like he was auditioning for a tragic romance.
Inhale. Exhale. Loudly.
Again.
And again.
“For the love of the Goddess,” I snapped, turning my head toward him, “if you’re going to keep sighing like someone just died, why don’t you switch places with me and let me suffer in silence while I drive?”
He blinked like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “Sorry,” he muttered, not really apologetic—more like a kid caught with
