She’d barely finished the last sip of her champagne when the knock came. Not a polite, tentative tap. A command. Taylor froze, her eyes flicking to the hotel room door. Her stomach turned cold, and for a moment she considered grabbing her bag and making a run for it. But it was too late. She knew it was too late.
The door opened before she could even rise from the bed.
And there he was.
Jax filled the doorway, broad, fuming, and completely silent. His eyes locked on her, dark and dangerous, and behind him stood Ghost, arms folded, unreadable as always—but his presence only made it worse. He was the silent confirmation that this wasn’t going to be a calm conversation.
Taylor stood slowly, robe loose around her legs, champagne glass still in hand.
“Jax—”
“No.” His voice cut like a blad
