James Sinclair
What the hell was wrong with me?
I’d gone off on Olivia like she’d done something unforgivable. A second ago, I could’ve sworn I had control over myself, but as soon as she walked into the room, looking all soft and fresh from her drive… it felt like every part of me wanted to snap. And I had. Way more than I meant to. But why? Why did I care so much that she’d come to New York by car instead of taking the damn flight?
I knew she wasn’t late, not really. But something had twisted in me when she finally walked in, and I’d pounced on her like a predator who’d been waiting for the chance. But that wasn’t me, was it? I didn’t lose it like that. I was calm, strategic, calculated. So why had I felt like blowing apart at the seams when I saw her waltz in, looking… pleased? Sati
