Rebekkah's POV.
The door of the SUV clicked shut, sealing out the noise of the estate. The interior smelled of expensive leather and Michael’s cologne, a scent that usually calmed me but today felt like it was stealing my oxygen.
Michael slid across the seat, closing the gap between us until his shoulder was pressed against mine. He reached for my hand, interlacing our fingers and resting them on his knee. It was a gesture of ownership, plain and simple, even if he was smiling while he did it.
"You look tired, Bekk," Michael said, his voice dropping into that intimate register that made my skin crawl. "Maybe we should skip the briefing. I can tell Arthur you’re under the weather."
"No," I said, a little too quickly. "I need to be there. I need to show them I’m not... shaking."
In the
