Maya had stopped struggling against Jackson's grip long ago, resigning herself to the humiliation of being slung over his broad shoulder like a sack of rice.
The rhythmic sway of his strides does nothing to ease her seething anger.
Her arms are tightly crossed, her nails digging into her skin as she glared daggers at the back of his head.
She’d already tried pounding against his back, wiggling like a fish out of water, and even whispering threats in his ear—all to no avail.
The man was a walking fortress, unshaken by her tantrum.
Her blood boils as they near the sleek black car waiting for them.
The moment he sets her down on the pavement, she wrenches herself from his hold, her feet hitting the ground with force.
Maya huffs in exasperation, flipping her messy hair over her
