Kyle’s POV
"What the flaming f**k is going on here!?"
The venomous demand cracked through the cosy warmth of my office. My stomach plummeted, the taste of Cleo’s homemade pulled pork turning to ash in my mouth. I pushed my leather chair back so forcefully it squealed against the wall, and shot to my feet.
"Laila," I snarled, dropping my voice into a low, dangerous warning tone. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She stepped fully into the doorway. Even out of her turnout gear, wearing a heavy winter coat and jeans, she looked imposing. Her icy blue eyes narrowed into furious slits, sweeping over the candlelit desk and the two plates of food, before settling with unmasked disgust onto Cleo.
"I came to update you on Rosie," Laila snapped. She pointed a manicured finger toward the desk.
