"Don't make me do this."
Jaxon's voice was low but sharp-like, a warning. I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands fidgeted around his half-empty glass, and for a second, I almost felt bad. Almost.
I let out a sigh, my gaze dropping to my drink as I swirled it around in my glass. I really didn't want to do this. Yet he had this effect on me, as though he innately knew just the right buttons to push to make me question every decision I'd made since we'd last spoken.
"Jaxon," I said, barely above a whisper, "this isn't the time. You know that.
His eyes on me, the weight of his gaze, though I wasn't looking. The company dinner was in full swing-noise of chatters mixing with the low hum of jazz music in the background. It should have been just another night, but the air felt h
