The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out without looking back. The cold marble lobby of the Joel headquarters echoed with my heels, each click a drumbeat of defiance. Vordon was supposed to be waiting. I could feel his stare before I even reached the glass doors. The air was thick with tension, electric, almost suffocating.
“Veronica.” His voice was low, controlled, but the edge in it was undeniable.
I didn’t turn. “You’re late.”
He stepped closer. That familiar scent, leather and cedar, filled my senses. My pulse quickened not from attraction, but from anticipation. From danger.
“You think showing up like this makes a difference?” he asked, his blue eyes sharp. Pride and fear mingling in a way only he could manage.
“It does. Because this time, I’m deciding the terms,” I said.
He
