Mickey watches Ziana’s car vanish into the distance, the taillights swallowed by the night. His jaw tightens, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. Without a word, he turns on his heel, climbs into his sleek black car, and heads back to his penthouse.
The city lights blur past as his mind races. By the time he steps into his penthouse, he’s already stripped off the mask and voice enhancer. He tosses them onto the sleek glass desk in his study and collapses into the leather chair with a groan. The weight of the day presses heavily on him, but it’s not just the day—it’s her.
He yanks off his tie, muttering under his breath about women who drive him insane, and pulls out his phone. With a flick of his thumb, he dials Axel.
“Come to the penthouse. Now,” he orders, his tone leav
